A New Star
by ArwenGreenEyes
Summary: Sequel to A Change in the Stars. There is a new queen at Benden, and her rider faces rewritten rules and new challenges. Follows some old friends and introduces some new characters. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Well, hello everyone! I know it's been kind of a long time since I've posted...but my summer travels are over and I'm back at school with some free time to fill! So I've decided to tackle a sequel to A Change in the Stars. I can't promise it will be as long, but I hope it will be just as enjoyable. Here is the first chapter; I hope it answers some questions, and as always, I welcome feedback!**

**Arwen, out!**

The red light of the setting sun threw long shadows over the ledges of Ista Weyr. A brown dragon—of a good size, but beginning to show signs of age—and a green dragon, who had a rather matronly air, lazed in the last rays, soaking up every last bit of warmth from the waning day. The two dragons raised their heads and bugled a greeting as a dragon slid into existence far above, in the red-tinged clouds.

The bronze dragon voiced a reply and circled, folding his wings smoothly as he banked to land on the neighboring ledge. His rider, face protected by riding goggles and a cap, slid down and slapped his dragon's neck affectionately. "Well done, you great lump. Now go terrify some herdbeasts or something."

The bronze pushed his great wedge-shaped head into his rider's chest. For a moment they formed a picturesque tableau, rider and dragon silhouetted by the light of the dying sun. Then with a parting pat to the bronze's eye-ridge, the rider turned and pulled off his headgear. He walked over to the weyr in front of which the brown and green lounged; he gave the two dragons a sort of wry salute and a grin. As he raised his hand to knock, the door opened.

"T'ran!" exclaimed the small woman. "Oh, well this is a surprise, my dear!" She turned and called behind her, "I'lan, dearest, T'ran has popped in for a visit!" Her face wreathed in a huge smile, the woman embraced T'ran, who smiled and hugged her back.

"It's nice to see you, mother," he said.

Essa held her son at arm's length and her eyes traveled over his strong jaw, showing a shadow of a beard since this morning's shave, taking in his muscled shoulders and lithe frame. Then her gaze alighted on the shoulderknots her son wore, and her eyes widened. She smiled again. "So it's true, my dear, these tidings we've heard. You're a Weyrleader."

T'ran shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "For a little, I suppose."

His mother looked at him sharply, taking in his discomfort; but instead of saying anything more, she turned and smiled at the man who had emerged from the inner rooms of the weyr.

"Father," said T'ran.

"Weyrleader," said I'lan with a small incline of his head, eyes twinkling. He extended his hand and they gripped forearms, the greeting of fellow riders. "Well now, come in, and tell us all you've been up to," said the brownrider amiably. "I hear there are great changes at Benden."

"Yes," agreed T'ran. He walked into the place he had called home and stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. He'd been back to visit a few times since he'd Impressed Ereth, but training and then the responsibility that had followed quickly afterward left little time for social calls.

"Come and have a cup of klah," suggested Essa, moving toward the table.

"Sounds good," said I'lan, grinning broadly as he clapped T'ran on the back. "Knew that sending you to Benden was the right decision. Hear you've taken up with the green-rider Weyrwoman."

"Yes, that would be why I'm Weyrleader," replied T'ran. A spark of irritation flared within him—his father made his relationship with Arryn sound so…casual. Like it was just a ploy for power. He knew that with some weyrleaders, it was really all about the authority that being the weyrwoman's consort afforded a rider; but it was _different_ with Arryn.

"So tell me about this young lady," his mother said, setting mugs of steaming klah on the table.

T'ran pulled out a chair and sat down. "Her name is Arryn. They Searched her from Ruatha, for Narenth's last clutch. She's the niece of the Holder, Yenar. She Impressed Maventh…" He shrugged. "She saved my life, once." There was so much to say about her—about them—but the words stuck in his throat. Somehow he didn't want to share all the details with his parents. This surprised him vaguely, because he had always been close to I'lan and Essa; but he brushed the feeling of unease aside.

"And her Maventh is the green that clutched?" Essa said it with raised eyebrows and took a sip of klah afterward, as if to cleanse her mouth of the words.

"Yes, Maventh's clutch is on the Hatching Grounds, and candidates are being Searched even as we speak," replied T'ran levelly.

"Hm," said his mother. She looked out toward the ledge. "Kelnoth has been very curious about this rogue green."

"Essa," said I'lan in a low voice.

T'ran sighed and wanted to run his hands through his hair, but he stilled his fingers and forced himself to regain his composure. He'd thought that his mother would be happy for him, but apparently even she was not immune to the rabid curiosity that consumed most riders when they brought up Maventh, the anomaly, the 'rogue green.'

"How did this—Maventh—do it?" Essa watched her son with keen grey eyes, as if expecting him to admit to some sort of deception or trickery. Some people thought that Narenth had clutched before going _between_, and Maventh had taken over care for the eggs…or worse, that Maventh had stolen them from the late queen, driving her to madness.

"We don't really know," said T'ran in a carefully controlled voice. "The best that anyone can guess is that somehow, Maventh possesses a special gene that allows her to bypass her color's infertility and waylay the effects of firestone."

"A gene?" asked I'lan.

"That's what the historian calls them. Apparently they're like traits but smaller and able to be passed on from generation to generation."

"But greens who haven't chewed firestone have been able to clutch," pointed out Essa.

"Only greens and blues," replied T'ran. "Not queen eggs. Not like Maventh."

"Hm," said his mother again. She pursed her lips. "Sounds too easy to me."

"Well, I think it's outstanding," said I'lan, his voice too loud with false cheer. He clapped T'ran on the back. "I think it's brilliant! And to think, my son a Weyrleader!"

"Um," said T'ran. He looked across the table at his mother, who was still regarding him with a kind of suspicion, as if she thought he wasn't telling her the whole truth. "Well, I should get going."

"But you only just got here," protested his mother with drawn brows.

T'ran cleared his throat. "Just wanted to come by and say hello. And, ah, I wanted to invite you to the Hatching." He waited for a response. Silence. "Thanks for the klah." He put down the mug and walked out, feeling very much like a petulant little boy, and not really caring very much. "Let's get out of here, Ereth," he said, striding angrily across the ledge. The bronze landed in a great rush of air and lowered himself obligingly so T'ran could swing onto his neck.

_You are upset, _observed the dragon as he pushed off mightily from the ledge, his strong wingbeats echoing against the stone of the weyr.

_Yes._ T'ran finished adjusting his goggles and settled himself more securely in the riding straps.

_Why? _asked Ereth as they gained altitude.

_Because Father and Mother, of all people, should understand. They should accept Arryn and Maventh just like they've always accepted me, _replied T'ran. _I don't understand why Mother was so suspicious. _

_ People are always afraid of what they do not understand, _said Ereth sagely, echoing his mate. It was one of Maventh's favorite sayings, and it never failed to soothe Arryn. _ Perhaps your parents do not want to see you get hurt. _

_ Why would I get hurt? _ T'ran frowned.

Ereth harrumphed deep in his chest. _Many times, love _is _hurt. _

T'ran cocked his head at the uncharacteristic emotionality of his dragon's comment. Then he shrugged and resolved to mull over it later. _Ready? _ he asked.

_Always,_ replied Ereth, and they slid into the cold of _between_.

Arryn pulled at her boots in irritation. Despite the fact that she'd taken her boots to the leather-shop and gotten the soles reinforced, she still burned her feet walking across the Hatching Grounds. Maventh hummed and nudged at one of the eggs. It was getting close; the shells of the eggs were hard as rock and tinged with swirls of color and markings that became clearer by the day. Arryn brushed her knuckles over the curve of one as she passed. "Morning, dearest," she greeted her dragon.

_Where is Ereth?_ _I am hungry and hot and I am tired of sitting here all day and getting angry at people who come too close and waiting for you. _The green dragon finished her complaint and leveled her whirling eyes with her rider.

"Oh, I know it's a lovely day," laughed Arryn, shaking her head. She rubbed the ridges above Maventh's eyes, both at once, until the green closed her eyes and thrummed in pleasure. "To answer your question, Ereth and T'ran have gone to Ista for a little bit, to visit his parents. I'm sure he can bring you something to eat when he comes back."

_Don't want him to _bring_ me something. I want to go hunt._

"Well, love, I know you do, but do you want to leave your eggs?" asked Arryn pointedly. Maventh huffed and spread her wing over the gleaming golden egg, drawing it closer to her side with one foreleg. "I have a question for you. They have all the queen candidates. Would you be all right if they came in and saw the egg?"

Maventh considered. _As long as they are not stupid. I would not want to hurt a girl because she did something to make me angry. _

"Would it be all right if they touched the egg?" asked Arryn, knowing that it was a stretch to ask, especially since this was Maventh's first—and perhaps only—clutch. But the green had shown good self-control throughout the weeks that the eggs hardened on the sands.

_ Yes. As long as they do not do anything stupid, _repeated Maventh.

"Thanks. I'll tell Sh'len and Lira," said Arryn.

_Aren't you going to stay? _asked the green almost plaintively.

"I'll be back," said Arryn reassuringly. She patted her dragon's neck and then hot-footed it back across the sands, biting back a vicious torrent of curses as her poor feet throbbed.

In the empty rooms down near the storage caverns, the air hummed. Voices pitched high in excitement talked quickly, overlapping one another and embellishing each other's sentences, as teenage girls often do. Ursina shook her head as she directed the kitchen staff and the wash-women. Such a buzz. It was beginning to give her a headache, looking after all these girls. There were only eleven of them, but shards if they didn't run her ragged. What with seeing to the girls and keeping them separated from the boys and trying to get them act a _little_ like queen candidates, Ursina barely had time to plait her own hair, much less drink her morning cup of klah.

"Excuse me, Ursina?"

Ursina sighed heavily at the young, feminine voice. "I swear, those eggs better hatch soon before you all drive me into an early grave—oh. Excuse _me_, Weyrwoman."

Arryn waved the title aside in irritation. "I need all the girls, gathered and dressed properly, as soon as you can manage it."

Ursina nodded in a businesslike way. "As you wish." She rolled up her sleeves and strode down the hallway. Arryn followed and waited in the passageway, listening in amusement as Ursina's authoritative bellow cut through the girlish gossip. Eleven girls, all looking a bit harried and intimidated, piled out of the room seconds later. They fell over each other like a litter of puppies in their haste to avoid the wrath of Ursina, and the first one tried to reverse her momentum once she saw who was waiting for them. It was a terrific mess, all flailing limbs and braids and cries of toes being stepped on and fingers being pinched against the wall. Arryn chuckled.

"All right! Enough!" commanded Ursina. The girls meekly disentangled themselves and lined up along the wall, hands clasped in front of them demurely. Ursina swept out of the room and marched down the line, correcting girls on their dress or hair or even their nails—"Vell," she said in despair upon reaching a girl in the middle of the line-up. "How many times have I told you to stop biting your nails?"

The girl, who had been nibbling distractedly at her thumb, snatched her hand down guiltily and blushed. "Yes, ma'am," she murmured abashedly.

Once Ursina had chastised the candidates to her satisfaction, she said slowly and with great precision, "You will listen very closely to everything the Weyrwoman has to say, because your lives may depend on it."

Arryn could have sworn that she saw tears in one small girl's eyes by the time Ursina finished this last remark. She hid a pitying smile. "Well, ladies. Today is the day." They leaned forward at that. This time she did smile. "Not the Hatching, I'm afraid, but the day that you get to see the queen egg for the first time." A few whispers flitted about until they were silenced by Ursina's baleful gaze.

"Now, I've talked to Maventh about it, and she said she's all right with it, _as long as you don' t do anything stupid._ In her mind, that could be anything from tripping near an egg to looking at her wrong. So please, be respectful, and above all, if I tell you to go, pay your respects to Maventh and leave slowly but purposefully. If I raise my voice, just run," Arryn finished grimly. She knew it wouldn't come to that, but it never hurt to be prepared. "The sands are hot. They'll burn your feet. Get used to it." A few girls blinked at that. "Now follow me."

Arryn felt like a mother wherry as she led the candidates toward the Hatching Grounds. She could hear snatches of whispers and murmurs, some worried, most excited. "Stay here until I say so," she ordered when they reached the entrance. She stepped onto the hot sands. _ Maventh, love, they're here. Is it all right for us to come over? _

_They may come,_ replied Maventh, a bit imperiously. Arryn smiled. "Come on now. Remember what I said."

As they started forward, one of the candidates, clearly thinking too hard, tripped over her own feet and crashed into the girl in front of her, who in turn stumbled into the girl in front of _her. _ Arryn waited patiently for them to sort themselves out again.

It was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**So this is a rather short chapter, but I thought I'd post it anyway to give you all a bit more to chew on while I hammer out the details of this story. A big thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter (Starsinger, Lesza and dignedamour.) Let me know what you think--speculations on who will Impress the new queen are welcome!**

**Arwen, out!**

Vell picked herself up in embarrassment, cheeks burning. True, the girl behind her had been the one to trip, but she felt a blush heat her face all the same. One hand strayed up to her mouth and she was about to bite down on her thumbnail when she remembered Ursina's stern remonstration and stopped. Instead she shifted nervously from foot to foot, staring at the braid of the girl in front of her while the Weyrwoman waited for everyone to regain their balance and their composure. After a moment more, she led them forward again. Vell dutifully followed and as she stepped onto the sands, the heat of the Hatching Grounds enveloped her and embraced her like the arms of a mother. She smiled faintly even as she felt sweat spring onto her skin, sliding down the hollow of her back beneath her loose tunic. Somehow, the brutal heat radiating off the golden sands filled her with contentment.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" hissed Rija, her roommate, who prodded her in the side. With a start, Vell realized that the line had moved forward and she had been left a few paces behind as she contemplated the strange, home-like feel of the Hatching Grounds. She hurried forward, wincing as the heat tore through her boots and licked at the soles of her feet. Perhaps the Hatching Ground wasn't exactly as ambivalent as she'd thought.

Arryn took a deep breath as she led the candidates closer to Maventh and the twelve gleaming eggs. She saw in relief that Maventh had relinquished her close proximity to the queen egg—the green had placed the golden egg far enough away that the candidates would not be frightened witless; but Arryn knew that if one of the girls, Faranth forbid, did something that Maventh classified as 'stupid,' the dragon would be across the sand in less time than it would take her rider to blink. As the girls neared, their steps slowed and a few stopped altogether, eyes wide at the sight of the large, protective female dragon.

"Come on, she won't bite," the Weyrwoman teased gently, but some of the girls missed the joke and looked at her in utter terror. Arryn sighed and ushered a gaggle of four girls forward. "Let's go in groups, then. You four, follow me. When you're done, you can wait or you can go back to your rooms, whichever suits you."

Maventh rumbled deep in her chest as the four girls and Arryn approached the queen egg. Arryn spared no thought for the four girls who were following her; her gaze was pinned on her dragon, every nerve in her body straining to read the green's emotions and at the same time sending waves of reassurance through their connection.

Vell noticed that the Weyrwoman was not paying attention to them. They reached the egg, then stopped. They hung back, unsure. The Weyrwoman still paid them no mind; her green eyes were fixed on her dragon, narrowed in concentration, and her lithe frame was tense. Vell took a deep breath and looked at Rija. Sweat stood out in a dark sheen across Rija's oak-colored skin; and while she hadn't hesitated in speaking her mind back when Vell had tripped, she stopped now and looked panicked at the sight of the great golden egg.

_Fine, _thought Vell with determination. A rush of fear and dread ran through her when she realized what she was about to do; but a thread of excitement and anticipation wove its way down her back as well. Ignoring her burning feet and praying to every ancestor she could think of, she took a step forward, exhaled, and, very gently, placed her palm upon the glistening golden shell of the queen egg.

Maventh let loose a little rumble and she lowered her wedge-shaped head a bit, almost warningly, her eyes whirling; Arryn snapped her head around and saw that a girl had laid her hand on the queen egg and had locked eyes with the green dragon. She held her breath. The girl trembled visibly, looking as though her knees were about to give way; but then Maventh harrumphed and settled back, and Arryn let her breath out, feeling as though she, too, were about to fall over.

Emboldened now, the other three girls stepped forward, all at once, jostling for position.

"Steady now," warned Arryn, regaining her voice. "Don't get too excited."

The girls heeded her stern instructions and reverently touched fingertips and palms to the warm, hard surface of the egg. The first girl, Arryn noticed, was still standing there, transfixed, gazing at the egg with such wonder that it was surprising she wasn't crying tears of joy. Arryn took note of the girl's appearance and a part of her hoped that this was the one, but a part of her protested: the younger woman was almost too perfect, her features delicate and well-formed (small nose, high cheekbones, full lips, she noted in despair); her dark hair was sleek and well-behaved even in the unbelievable heat and humidity of the Hatching Grounds. Arryn ran a hand distractedly over her own wild auburn curls. The girl standing next to the first one, the dark-skinned one, was more to her liking: solid-looking, sturdy, dependable. Benden Weyr didn't need another beauty for its goldrider, she thought. Her mouth twisted as she recalled the unfortunate circumstances that had ended the life of the last queen-rider.

The remaining candidates were beginning to fidget. Arryn quickly said, "All right, next group," and ushered the first four girls off the sands. The dark-haired one moved as if in a dream, tripping a little as she lost her balance dangerously near one of the other eggs. Arryn looked at Maventh in alarm, but the green dragon merely snorted and looked at her as if to say, _I remember another girl who was that clumsy, and she turned out all right._

After another tense half hour, all the girls had had their turn at stroking the smooth shell of the golden egg, and Arryn breathed a real sigh of relief when the last of them hurried off the hot sands. _Glad that's over with,_ she said to Maventh, who wriggled.

_You didn't trust me, _the green dragon said almost accusingly, affixing her rider with one whirling eye as she nudged at the queen egg, bringing it once again to nestle beneath her wing.

_Oh, it wasn't that I didn't trust you, love, it was that I didn't trust _themexplained Arryn hurredly, walking over and stroking Maventh's nose fondly. _I knew you wouldn't do anything unless they did. _

_ So you say,_ Maventh muttered. _Where's Ereth? I'm still hungry. _

_ I can get Grath or Baerth or Pertanth to bring you something, _suggested Arryn, leaning against Maventh's neck.

_Ereth should be the one bringing me something,_ replied Maventh sulkily. She sounded for all the world like a love-spurned teenager.

_Oh, goodness, Mav, they've just gone to Ista for the morning!_ Arryn stifled a giggle, settling instead for a smile. Maventh thumped her tail on the sands in irritation. Arryn yawned. _How long, do you think, love? _ she asked lazily.

_Two, maybe three days. _Maventh fanned one of the eggs with her wing. Arryn stepped into the breeze and made a sound of contentment as it blew her hair away from her face.

_Will you be glad, when they've hatched? _ Arryn watched the green dragon keenly. She knew Maventh missed flying Thread, and loathed being stuck in the Hatching Grounds, though she was fiercely protective of her unhatched brood.

_I will be glad when I can fly Thread again, like a proper fighting dragon, _said Maventh decisively.

_Well, you can't exactly be classified as a 'proper fighting dragon' anymore, now, can you? _ pointed out Arryn. Maventh shifted uncomfortably.

_I do not like how everyone thinks of me differently now, _the green dragon admitted. _Just because I am capable of something others are not, it is no reason to think me strange. _

Arryn shrugged. _People like to understand things, Mav. They can't really understand you. They can't give reasons for what you're capable of, and that frightens them because they like to be in control. _

Maventh stopped and looked at her rider. _Do I frighten you? _

The green seemed to grow smaller and younger and more unsure of herself as she asked her plaintive question.

_Oh, no, love, you could never frighten me, _exclaimed Arryn. She rubbed Maventh's eye-ridges. _I remember when you could fit on my lap and you chased the older dragons' tails and couldn't even walk without tripping over your own wings, _she said fondly. _I could never be frightened of you. I love you too much. _

_ Good. I am glad, _said Maventh. She returned to fanning another egg. Just as quickly as her anxiety had manifested, it disappeared. Arryn shook her head and smiled.

"I'll be glad when we can fight again too, Mav," she murmured, moving among the eggs and grazing her knuckles over their curves. She paused and contemplated the glimmer of gold visible under Maventh's shielding wing. She would be glad when this small queen hatched, and she would be glad when the responsibility of Weyrwoman would be handed over to a proper queen-rider.

Arryn frowned, surprising herself with this last thought. But then she realized that it would be for the best; over the past months, she had learned that no matter how excellent a leader she had shown herself to be, others still regarded her as a temporary fix, a solution to a problem that would soon be solved. Some people regarded her with suspicion, a few with outright hostility; she was used to stares and whispers and rude comments when she visited other weyrs for conferences. E'tar, Weyrleader of Telgar, had outright refused to speak to her.

Then she thought that it would be rather pleasant to have some time to herself, to fly in proper drills again and flame Thread like the glorious days before Linnara's death. As she stood on the hot sands of the Hatching Grounds, Arryn realized that she had had her fill of being Weyrwoman, and she was ready to pass the role onto her successor. She thought back to the timid group of girls that had been cowed by the sight of Maventh that morning.

"Shards, I hope one of them is ready," she said to herself. She put one hand on Maventh's neck. "Because I know we are." With a sigh, she said, "I'm going to go find Ereth for you, Mav."

The green dragon rubbed her cheek against Arryn's arm and then turned back to her eggs. Arryn smiled and set off toward the Weyrbowl, determined to find T'ran if it took her the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello there! Well, the first week of school is over with and I must say...whew! Hope you enjoy this chapter and feel free to post any thoughts or feedback, as always. And as always, I am humbled by your praise...thank you for reading...I love writing and it gives me great joy to know that others enjoy it!**

**Arwen, out!**

Vell stumbled into her room and succeeded in knocking over the washbasin and stubbing her toe on a pair of stray shoes before she found her bed and all but collapsed upon it. She took a few deep breaths, the sweat from the Hatching Grounds cold in the creases of her elbows and knees.

"Are you sick?" asked Rija, sparing Vell a glance as she swept into the room, accompanied by two other candidates.

"No," mumbled Vell, pushing her hair back from her face and standing shakily. She picked up the washbasin, which had fortunately survived its harsh treatment.

"But you're shaking," pointed out golden-haired Siena, not unkindly.

"I'm just…tired," managed Vell, making it back to the safety of her bed.

"Well, you _were_ the one to touch the egg first," said Marlin, a small, cheerful girl whose nature seemed at odds with that of Rija, but the two had become fast friends nonetheless. "Here. Let me braid your hair. You'll feel so much better."

Vell smiled faintly and allowed Marlin to clamber up behind her on the bed.

"So, where are you from?" Marlin asked as her quick fingers parted Vell's thick dark hair.

"My father was a Harper at High Reaches," replied Vell. Her eyes closed halfway in pleasure at the feel of Marlin's fingertips against her scalp.

"How'd you end up all the way over here?" wondered Marlin. "Thought they would've kept you at High Reaches. Closer to your family."

Vell shrugged with one shoulder. Then she opened her eyes and looked at the other girls keenly and said, "Where are _you_ from?"

"Here," replied Marlin cheerfully. "Benden, that is."

"Me too," said Siena.

"I'm from Southern," said Rija rather stiffly, her dark eyes hard as flint.

"It must be beautiful at Southern," Vell said dreamily, thinking of golden sands and blue skies and warm breezes.

"No," snapped Rija. "It isn't."

Vell started and sat forward, a frown creasing her brow. Rija stared at her with a carefully impassive expression.

"Oh, I've lost the braid," said Marlin in dismay.

Rija turned and left the room, saying something about getting a bit to eat from the kitchens.

"Well, then," said Vell slowly to Marlin, "I guess you'll just have to start over."

"What's wrong with _her_?" wondered Siena, looking after Rija.

Vell shook her head. "Haven't the foggiest." She pressed her lips together and willed herself not to let stupid words spill out at inopportune times.

"So, what will you do if you don't Impress the queen?" Siena asked the room in general, admiring her reflection. Her self-assured smile clearly told everyone whom _she_ thought was going to Impress the little gold.

"Go for a green, I suppose," laughed Marlin.

Vell jerked away from her, not even wincing as she felt hair tear out of her scalp. She whirled and faced the other girl. "Is that some kind of joke?"

"Um," said Marlin warily, observing the dangerous flash of Vell's eyes.

"Oh, relax," said Siena breezily, running her fingers through her golden hair. "It _was_ a joke, Vell, because everyone knows that being a queen-rider is so much better than being a green-rider." She grimaced distastefully.

"I think that any dragon is worth respect," replied Vell, squeezing out the words between her teeth.

Siena shrugged, unfazed. "Think what you like, but if you think like that during the Hatching…" She smiled nastily. "You might just get what you wish for. Follow in Green-rider Arryn's footsteps."

"_Weyrwoman_ Arryn's footsteps," corrected Vell.

"But how do you think she got where she is today, hm?" asked Siena. Marlin listened, mesmerized at the verbal duel.

"By being a green-rider," pointed out Vell with a small smile.

Siena rolled her eyes. "_Obviously_ you don't listen when people talk."

"What do you mean?" Vell asked with narrowed eyes.

"Well…all I meant was, well…" Siena sighed. "I really shouldn't tell you. You're so…" She turned her eyes skyward. "Innocent."

Vell bristled. True, she was often dreamy-eyed with some far-off thought, some complex construction within her mind; and she knocked things over quite often, but that wasn't entirely her fault. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't naïve, no matter what this girl who thought she was Weyrwoman already thought.

Carefully, deliberately, Vell stood, lifting her chin. Next to her, Siena looked as fragile as a spun-glass doll. She cocked her head. "What is it that people say about the Weyrwoman?"

"Only that she had a hand in the death of the old Weyrwoman," said Siena in a low voice. "Only that her dragon is a freak and shouldn't exist, and she's a fool for letting her _green_ carry on with this stupidity."

"This stupidity?" Vell shook her head with a smile. "Her _stupidity_, as you call it, is what will make you a queen-rider, _if_ that little dragon chooses you. But if you think like that at the Hatching…" She shrugged.

Siena's face colored. "You can think and argue all you want. But the truth is, you're just as much of a misfit. Any dragon in their right mind would see that," she sneered. "Come on, Marlin."

"But—I'm not finished braiding her hair," Marlin said.

"I said come _on,_" hissed Siena. Marlin scampered across the room and out the door.

Vell rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed after Siena made her exit. Really, she felt like crying. Why was it that she never fit in? It must be my big mouth, she decided. And my clumsy feet. With a fierce frown she resolved to hold her tongue and speak carefully until the Hatching. With any luck, she wouldn't say anything else stupid.

Arryn sighed and looked out across the Weyrbowl. It was almost noon and still T'ran hadn't returned from his visit to Ista. Or she hadn't found him yet. She ran through a list in her head of possible locations of her errant weyrmate…and then she set off toward H'rath and Lira's weyr with a hint of a smile in her eyes.

Green Plenneth raised her head as Arryn leapt up the last steps to the weyr. _Is T'ran in there? _ asked Arryn.

_Of course he is. Where else does he go when he is troubled? _ replied Plenneth saucily. Arryn winked at the green dragon and slipped in through the door silently. She tip-toed through the shadows along the wall, toward the dining-area where H'rath and Lira had set up their table and chairs. The murmur of conversation reached her ears.

"I just don't understand," T'ran was saying. He sounded…worried. And defeated. It puzzled Arryn; she rarely heard T'ran sound anything but sure and confident. Granted, she was his weyrmate and saw all the colors of his different moods, but normally, he didn't sound so…weary.

"She's your mother," said Lira in a gentle voice. "She just wants what's best for you."

"I know what's best for me," replied T'ran with an edge of anger in his voice.

"Maybe she thinks she has an idea too," pointed out H'rath in a reasonable tone.

"No," said T'ran vehemently. " I know what's best for me, and that's Arryn! If they can't accept her, then…then I won't be their son anymore!"

A shiver rippled down Arryn's spine. T'ran had fought with his parents on her account? She frowned and shifted uneasily, aware now that what had started as harmless mischief in her mind was now full-blown eavesdropping. But I can't very well turn around and pretend I didn't hear anything, she thought unhappily.

"Come on, T'ran, think about what you're saying," soothed Lira. "They're only concerned about your happiness."

"They're only _concerned_ about the fact that I've 'taken up with the green-rider Weyrwoman.' That's exactly how she put it. The rider of that 'rogue green'."

Arryn heard the scrape of a chair as someone—she'd bet it was T'ran—stood and began pacing around the table. She could picture him, dark hair mussed from running his fingers through it, grey eyes stormy as his long legs carried him in great strides about the small chamber. Her chest ached yet she felt a strange sense of comfort—he was willing to defend her against even his own family. That said something about him. About them.

"You have to admit, Maventh is…unique," H'rath said, searching for the right words. "Some people just aren't ready to deal with the implications a dragon like her can raise."

Arryn couldn't resist. She edged closer and pressed her face against the edge of the wall so that she could see half the room.

"Implications?" T'ran paced like a caged beast, his eyes flashing. "Such as _what_? What could be so threatening as to make other riders reject one of their own kind? By the First Egg, my mother is a _green_-rider!"

"Maybe that's why she's so wary," said Lira softly, her voice pitched so low that Arryn had to lean forward to hear her. "People don't understand Maventh. She's upset hundreds, maybe even thousands of years of tradition and weyr law." Lira shrugged. "I'm no historian, but even I know that what she's done has never been done before. It frightens people."

"Think of how people must have felt when the first Thread fell," said H'rath.

T'ran paused and frowned. He hadn't ever thought of a time before Thread; he'd always assumed that the deadly silver spores had been a constant throughout the history of Pern, as were the dragons that defended hearth and hold against it. Then he shook his head. "It's not so much about Maventh," he said slowly, walking to his seat. He sat down heavily and ran his ringers through his hair. "It's more about the fact that my parents think I've…taken up with…Arryn just…"

"Just because she's the Weyrwoman," finished Lira in that same strange, gentle tone. "Listen to me, T'ran. You and I both know that that isn't the reason you and Arryn are together. I saw the mating flight…shards, Baerth saw it too, and he has an unusual perspective on these things, you know," she added with a grin. "Maventh didn't choose Ereth simply because he's a fine young bronze."

H'rath shot her a look. Lira widened her eyes.

"What?" she said innocently. "I can still look, even if Baerth can't." Then she gave H'rath a sly little grin, he rolled his eyes at her and she continued. "Trust me, if it was just about who was fastest during that flight, I think…I think another dragon would have won," she said carefully, heeding T'ran's baleful look. "But mating flights aren't just a race to see who's the fastest," she continued. "Maventh _chose_ Ereth because she knew."

"Knew what?" asked T'ran stupidly, brow furrowed. Lira rolled her eyes and sighed. Apparently even bronze-riders were prone to the 'thick-skulled male' syndrome.

"That I _love_ you, idiot," said Arryn, walking into the room and kissing T'ran soundly. She couldn't resist. H'rath looked at her in surprise but Lira just narrowed her eyes in a way that said they would have a discussion about it later—girl-talk. Arryn just smiled at T'ran's speechlessness—that reaction to her kiss was still gratifying. It gave her a certain sense of leverage, to be able to wring all the arguments from his mind without saying a word.

"I love you, too," he said finally, voice husky as he hugged her.

"Maventh's grumpy," she informed him. "She's hungry and says that Ereth should be getting her food. But she doesn't want to leave them."

"Oh…of course," T'ran said hurriedly. "I'll tell him right away and I'm sure he'll oblige."

Arryn smiled wryly. T'ran still panicked a little bit every time she referenced the little dragons—Ereth's sons and daughters—that would soon be squealing about the weyr. It was almost as if _she_ was the one with child. Like that's going to happen anytime soon, she thought. She could manage a whole weyr seamlessly and still have time for a relaxing bath at the end of the day…but the mere thought of a bawling infant terrified her.

T'ran's arm comfortably about her waist, she turned to H'rath and Lira, who were both watching T'ran warily, with a bit of an anxious squint. "Did I interrupt an important conversation?" she asked.

"Well," began Lira, but T'ran cut her off hastily.

"No, no, I was just telling them about my visit to Ista." He cleared his throat. Arryn rolled her eyes. T'ran was a terrible liar; it seemed that honesty was hardwired into most bronze-riders. That point aside, she would be able to see right through him anyway.

"How did that go?" Arryn looked up at T'ran guilelessly, her green eyes large.

"Um," he swallowed, coloring. "It went…um…"

"It was an interesting visit?" contributed Lira with a helpful air.

"Yes," agreed T'ran, nodded enthusiastically.

Arryn gave Lira _that_ look—the girl-talk look. Lira comprehended and quickly broke eye contact, chewing on her lip anxiously. Great, thought Arryn. I've just created internal conflict. I hate internal conflict. It's so…pesky.

_No, _came Maventh's insistent voice in her head. _What's pesky is being stuck here on these hot sands with nothing but _eggs_ for company. _

_But love, they're _your_ eggs, _pointed out Arryn hopefully, thinking that perhaps she could reawaken Maventh's maternal side.

_That doesn't make them any better to talk to, _replied Maventh grumpily. _I'm _bored.

_Well, I just talked to T'ran and Ereth should be coming over soon, _said Arryn soothingly. _Just relax, dearest. You said it yourself, it's only a few more days. _

_It doesn't matter, _replied Maventh edgily. _I'm worried. _

_Worried? _Arryn frowned and stiffened in T'ran's arms. Her friends and her weyrmate glanced at her and quickly discerned that she was talking to Maventh—the unfocused eyes, dreamy expression, and the soft, affectionate smile curving her lips were all dead giveaways. But then her mouth twitched into a harder line as she frowned. _What are you worried about, love? _

Maventh didn't reply for a moment. Then, when she did, Arryn sensed her tense thoughts, strung so tight they could have been plucked like a harper's strings. It all came in a torrent of words and emotion. _I am worried that my little ones will be too small because I am not a queen and I am worried that there are not enough candidates for them to choose from and I am worried that they will not choose well and I am worried that they will be set apart because their dam is not a queen and they will be looked at as misfits and ridiculed and not ever be proper fighting dragons, _she finished miserably. Arryn felt her curl around the eggs, which were all huddled together, all twelve, with the great golden egg nestled securely against Maventh's side.

_Oh, love,_ she said. _Oh, I will be right there. _ She blinked and said, "Maventh needs me," and left without any other word, striding quickly toward the Hatching Grounds, leaving T'ran bewildered in her wake.

"Wait!" Lira said as Arryn made her hasty exit, "Baerth could…give you a ride," she finished futilely with a sigh. T'ran gave her an apologetic look, shrugged and set out after Arryn. H'rath squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.

"Don't worry," he said. "She can handle it. She's strong."

"I know," Lira said. She leaned her head against H'rath's arm. "I just wonder sometimes if she knows she doesn't have to handle it alone."


	4. Chapter 4

**As always, enjoy and I love hearing what you think. This is kind of an angsty chapter...but oh well. Life can't all be sunshine and butterflies, right?**

**Arwen, over and out.**

Vell couldn't sleep. She was trying, she really was…but her mind didn't want to slow down. Thoughts whirled through her head like dizzying fairs of fire-lizards, flitting here and there and never quite settling down enough for her to grasp them. She sighed silently and listened to Rija's deep, even breathing, wishing she could find such senseless peace.

Then the sound of a soft tread reached her ears—someone was passing through the hallway just outside her room. Her curiosity prickled. It wasn't often that anyone came down this hallway; it was hot, because the air from the Hatching Grounds leeched off into the passageway and blew in gouts into the room when the door was open. Vell picked at her shift, trying to peel the clinging fabric away from her neck. She sat up and blinked in the darkness, an idea forming behind her eyes. One part of her whispered caution; but the great majority urged her to follow through with _something_ for once.

Searching in the darkness, she found her tunic and pulled it on, clumsily pulled back her mussed hair, and padded barefoot to the door. She opened it and slipped through silently, closing it with a soft snick behind her. Her skin tingled at the feel of the heat from the Hatching Grounds. The tunnel was fairly long but the heat was insidious; she stuck to the shadows and crept forward, toward the sound of the receding footsteps. Her mind had stopped protesting; she was focused solely on keeping quiet and unseen.

A soft golden light spilled into the tunnel, bleeding into the darkness by the end of the tunnels. Glow-baskets lit silhouettes in the darkness; Vell strained her eyes and squinted, biting her lip, and was able to make out the hazy, distant figure of the great green dragon—and another, smaller figure making its way across the sands. Her heart jumped. Was this some attempt to sabotage the unusual dragon's clutch? What would she do? How would she foil them? She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, then carefully went through scenarios in her mind, each meticulous but lightning-quick, like the perfect miniature portraits she had seen the artists at the Harper's Hall create.

She would run out onto the sands and tackle the intruder. But wait, she was barefoot. She shook her head, thinking that it would be worth it, for the little dragonlings, the innocent eggs.

She could call for help. But help might take too long to arrive and she would stand helpless as the events unfolded before her.

She could just wait and see what happened. In all probability, the mother dragon would wake up and defend her clutch. A shudder ran through her as she thought of the scene she would witness, if the figure walking slowly but steadily across the sands intended any harm to the hatchlings.

_There is a little one in the shadows who thinks you are an intruder,_ Maventh informed Arryn somewhat sleepily, with a hint of amusement. Arryn paused and glanced over her shoulder, just once; and sure enough, there was a glint of pale skin and white cloth in the darkest shadow of one of the smaller entrances to the Hatching Grounds—the entrance that she herself had used.

_Well, what do you think we should do?_ Arryn asked the green dragon, a hint of a smile curving one side of her mouth despite the late—or rather, early—hour. Then she added, _She's not so much younger than me, you know. _

_You are older than her in experience, _replied Maventh, _and that is what makes the greatest difference. _

Arryn shook her head as she neared the eggs, too tired to mince her steps despite the fact that her feet were sore from being on the sands too much. _Sometimes I think you know too much for your own good. _

_One can never know _ too much, said Maventh in a tone of puzzlement. _That aside, I am just naturally gifted with the wisdom of my kind. _

_That's sarcasm if I ever heard it, _said Arryn, stifling a chuckle. _So. You still haven't answered my question._ She made out Maventh's whirling eyes in the semi-darkness as the green dragon mulled over the possibilities for a moment.

_You could try to hurt one of my eggs and I could pretend to carry you off to dash you on the cliffs outside the weyr, _she suggested after a pause.

_Ew. Way to be graphic, Mav, _replied Arryn. She paused as she reached the first of the eggs. _We could just see what she does. Let her watch until she realizes. _

_She is concerned for my hatchlings, _rumbled Maventh. Was there a strain of affection in her voice? Arryn shook her head. No good getting attached to candidates before the Hatching, however endearing they may be. In the world of the weyr, nothing was ever certain.

_Well, she'll just have to figure it out, _said Arryn in irritation. _Which one is it, anyway? _ she asked almost as an afterthought.

_The brave one, _Maventh replied, making her rider roll her eyes.

Dragons couldn't simply say 'the one with the dark hair,' or 'the one who bites her nails,' thought Arryn in mild annoyance. She was too tired to properly deal with draconic enigmas. She sighed and stroked the warm surface of the egg closest to her, and for a moment she thought she heard a whisper coming from beyond that thick creamy shell. Then she shook her head. Lack of sleep.

_Can I ask her to come over? _asked Maventh, raising her head.

_Why? That wouldn't be right, giving special treatment to one candidate, especially since she's sneaking about the weyr when she ought to be asleep, _replied Arryn.

_Mother wherry, _muttered Maventh, mostly teasing.

_ 'Mother wherry' yourself, _Arryn returned. Her hands found their way to her hips.

_ What is that supposed to mean? _ Maventh cocked her head between turning the eggs.

_You're the one who's been worrying so much lately, _snapped Arryn. Maventh froze and turned to gaze at her through gently spinning blue-tinged eyes. There was a long, long pause. Arryn felt horrible under her dragon's reproachful gaze, but she held her tongue and lifted her chin, blinking the stale exhaustion away from the edges of her vision.

_I am sorry that I asked too much of you, _Maventh finally said after what seemed like an eternity._ It was thoughtless of me. _With that she returned to inspecting her small brood, paying painstaking attention to detail.

Arryn could feel the sadness beneath Maventh's calm words, the longing and the love, and it cut her to the quick. She wanted to tell Maventh, her lovely Maventh, that nothing was ever asking too much, ever. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. In despair, her shoulders slumped with fatigue and defeat, she turned and began to walk away.

Then there was a sliding in the sand behind her and a heavy, warm weight on her shoulder; Maventh pressed her neck to her rider's cheek in their unspoken sign of affection. Tears pricked at Arryn's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mav," she said huskily. "It's just that…I'm worried too. About you. About T'ran. He fought with his parents, you know. Over me. I don't want him to have to choose. And I don't _want_ to worry, I don't want to run myself ragged just thinking about everything, but shards, I don't know what else I can do. I don't know who else to turn to." Her hand found Maventh's eyeridge.

_You will always have me, _replied Maventh gently, lovingly. _I will always be here for you. _

"I know, dearest," whispered Arryn.

_Sometimes you cannot control life, _said Maventh. _The unexpected happens. _Her eggs gleamed in the sand, glimmered under the faded light of the glow-baskets.

Arryn nodded. "Sometimes all you can do is accept it."

_Exactly. Now you're being sensible, _said Maventh. She stretched, lengthening every muscle from tip to tail until she was a great low mass extending over the sands in the half-dark. _Do you want to go to sleep, or do you want to talk? _

_ Sleep sounds excellent, _replied Arryn with a wry smile, dashing at the tears drying on her cheeks with the heel of one hand. She clambered up onto Maventh's foreleg and nestled against her neck. _Is she still there? _she asked as she drifted into the comfortable feeling before sleep.

_Yes, _replied Maventh.

_Mmmm,_ responded Arryn, her breathing evening out as she fell into a deep slumber.

Vell drew back from her breathless stance, blinking. After she had gotten over her initial embarrassment at supposing the Weyrwoman to be an intruder, she had watched the whole exchange between rider and dragon, drinking in every detail: the way the Weyrwoman's curls spiraled wildly about her face, like a nimbus of copper in the dim glow; and the way Maventh's eyes had _changed_ when she saw her rider; the defeated slump of the Weyrwoman's shoulders as she began to drag herself away, and the desperately gentle way the green dragon had laid her neck on the Weyrwoman's shoulder, the practiced ease with which the Weyrwoman's hand found her dragon's eyeridge.

She turned as if in a trance and slowly made her way back into the tunnel. It didn't matter that she'd made a stupid mistake. She was glad she'd had that harebrained thought, because she had felt a spark of what it meant to be a rider—the full commitment between rider and dragon, lifelong, heart and soul; and she ached for it. Vell walked back to her room as if hypnotized, not even noticing that Rija blinked up blearily when she entered the room. When she laid down on her bed and closed her eyes, she fell asleep almost instantly, and dreamt of wings carrying her through a flawless blue sky.

The next morning, when Vell opened her eyes, she felt a humming in her bones—and Rija was shaking her, hissing, "Get _up, _get _up, _lazybones!" Even the dour-faced Southerner couldn't conceal her excitement as she told her sleepy-eyed roommate, "The Hatching! The Hatching is today! Ursina just gave the order for all the candidates to dress in our robes!"

Vell bolted upright. She scrambled out of bed, knocking the wash-basin over again—except this time there was water in it, and Rija squawked when it splashed her.

"Sorry," gasped Vell, pulling at her hair with her hairbrush as she rifled through her drawers, looking for her candidate gown. She found it in the bottom drawer and pulled it out. She held it up for a moment, just looking at it, before tugging it over her head. The white folds fell down to just past her knees.

"Here, sit still and I'll plait your hair quick. We've only a few minutes. Find your boots and you can put them on while I do it," said Rija sensibly.

"Thanks," Vell said in surprise. She located her boots, sat down on the bed and pulled them on while Rija quickly braided her hair.

"All right. Done," said Rija. "Let me see." She inspected Vell cursorily, then nodded. Vell looked over her as well, but Rija said, "Oh, I know _I _ look alright, Vell, don't worry about _that_."

Normally Vell would have bristled at the comment, but she merely smiled a little. "Good luck," she said.

Rija looked at her oddly. "You don't wish your competition luck, Vell. Especially now. But thanks. Just don't wish Siena good luck," she added with a quirk of her brow.

Vell smiled. Then Ursina's call cut through the easy silence. The two girls looked at each other, took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to meet their fate on the hot sands of Benden Weyr's Hatching Grounds.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm wondering if this is too predictable. Tell me so if it is. I hate being predictable. But I don't think I'll change it. I like it too much. Happy reading. As always, I enjoy hearing your opinions and suggestions; they never fail to brighten my day.**

**Arwen, over and out.**

Arryn barely noticed the scorching heat of the Hatching Grounds. She felt the sweat sliding down her back and slicking her face, but her whole attention was focused on the eggs. That morning, when she had awoken from her comfortable sleep curled between Maventh's neck and leg, she had heard a queer little sound, like an insect's buzzing. Maventh, she had noticed, was already quite awake, watching her eggs with intensely colored eyes.

Over the next hour, the buzzing had increased into a hum that scrambled along Arryn's jaw, making her teeth ache. She hadn't even left to notify Ursina; she'd bespoken Baerth and asked Lira to give the news for the candidates to ready themselves. The great sloping sides of the Hatching Grounds, with their arena-like air, had begun to fill with the dragons of Benden, all humming deep in their throats. Their wings created a constant whispering undertone to the anticipatory draconic song.

Then the eggs had started to tremble. And Arryn's throat tightened, looking at them now, gently rocking. She caught sight of white robes at the far end of the Grounds, and she raised her fist and nodded to Ursina. The eyes of the dragons and riders behind the low barrier gleamed as the long line of candidates straggled out onto the sands.

They looked terrified. She noticed that much. Most of the boys tried valiantly to hide it, and a few succeeded; but she wasn't sure whether the absence of fear made them look courageous, or merely arrogant. The girls followed their male counterparts, making up their own line, their faces round and shining from the sweat and anticipation. The dark-haired one stumbled, lurched to the side and almost succeeded in planting her face in the scorching sand of the Hatching Grounds—she would have, had the girl behind her not seized her by the scruff of the neck and hauled her back up. Arryn would have sighed but it seemed too much effort. All her energy was needed to watch the eggs, to watch her Maventh's little dragonets make their debut in a world that was still not quite sure of them. The shining golden egg, an armslength taller than the rest, rocked gently in a mesmerizing rhythm.

As the candidates approached, Maventh reared up and spread her wings, folding them about her eggs like a great green shield. They paused, wavered, started forward, and stopped again. Arryn slipped beneath one wing, breezed through the green-golden darkness and put both her hands on Maventh's nose, talking to her softly, nonsense words of love and affection and reassurance that only they could understand. The half-dark was filled with the sound of sand crunching against smooth shells, and small squeaks from the dragonets laboring against their shells. She could feel them against the outside of her mind, just barely out of her reach, separated by a single hot, creamy wall. They battered against it, the unspoken need within them urging them on.

"Come now, love," she said finally, feeling her dragon's surge of worry and protectiveness. "They can't be yours forever. You have to let them go."

With that, Arryn gently pushed at one of Maventh's wings, and the green dragon, albeit reluctantly, settled back and revealed the rocking eggs once more. The candidates formed a ragged half-circle, the edges clotted with groups of two and three huddling together, too intimidated to venture any further. The humming from the dragons in the stands grew louder. Maventh added her own smooth croon, now encouraging her little ones to break free and enter life. Arryn felt as though she couldn't breathe. She remembered, suddenly, walking out onto the sands for her own Hatching, wondering desperately if she would be chosen, agonizing over the thought that she wasn't good enough for any dragon. She and Lira, the two of them, their shining eyes bright among the sea of brawling masculinity into which they had been thrown. She smiled faintly at the thought.

The eggs were swinging wildly now, looking as though they would topple over at any moment. And then, before Arryn prepared herself, one egg heaved forward and with a jarring, resounding crack split open.

Vell jumped at the great sound. Her hands shook as she watched the small nose poking out through the wet, glistening shards of shell. The dragonet head-butted the wall of its shell a few more times for good measure before slithering out, scuffling in the sand. Vell's heart squeezed in her chest: it was a green dragonet, beautiful and glimmering and painted all over with sand and pieces of shell. The little green took her time, demolishing what was left of her shell vengefully. Vell glanced at the Weyrwoman and saw a broad grin on the woman's face as she watched the small green wield her tail as a clumsy mace, bashing the last curve into shards. Exclamations and shouts of encouragement swelled in the stands as the little green swung her head about and finally looked at the candidates.

Arryn watched the dragonet display her irritation at her long confinement with ever-growing amusement. As soon as the first little dragon had appeared, her nerves had disappeared, leaving her only with calm certainty. It was fitting, that her Maventh's first little dragonet was a decidedly feisty green. A strange contentment smoothed the trembling of her limbs. Maventh rumbled encouragement to her daughter, urging her to look closely and choose well.

The green didn't so much as look twice at the boys. One stepped forward hopefully, but the dragonet flounced past him without so much as a backward glance. It headed toward the knot of queen candidates with a singular determination. The girls contracted into a pack, some with eyes wide and uncertain, others solely focused on avoiding this dragon that was _not_ golden and shimmering.

The little green stalked imperiously up to the first of the girls, inspected her and found her unsatisfactory. She paced and squawked her dissatisfaction. Then she reached Marlin, who was breathing heavily, her eyes fixed on the dragonet. The green reached up and took Marlin's robe in her mouth and _pulled_. Marlin fell to her knees, pliant as a doll, and her eyes met those of the green.

"Ariath," she breathed in a sigh of pure joy.

A cheer rippled through the stands. Arryn breathed a sigh of relief. Vell sighed in disappointment.

The first Impression had been made.

The next dragonet to hatch after pretentious little Ariath was a good-sized brown, who showed none of the pickiness of the green and promptly Impressed a solid-looking lad. Arryn felt her smile growing wider: Maventh's eggs, beside the obvious gold, were not all greens and blues, like some had whispered.

A blue bashed through his shell and plowed through the boys to tackle a slight golden-haired boy who had been hanging at the back of the line, behind the bigger candidates. Then the first bronze of Maventh's clutch made his appearance. The dragons hummed their approval, and the observers in the stands watched breathlessly, eager to see which lucky lad would claim the honor. The bronze sat and considered, then lurched forward and bumped the knee of a golden-haired lad who was closer to becoming a man than most of the candidates. There was a roar from the bronze-riders in the stands when the new rider stood and thrust his fist in the air and shouted, "His name is Rieneth!"

Rieneth and his new rider made their way toward the exit. Arryn could feel the little bronze's requests for meat—he was _hungry, hungry_. She smiled.

With the ruins of three eggs upon the sands, chaos broke loose. A blue and a brown both hatched at once and stumbled into each other, unsteady on their feet; a second green sleekly slipped out of her egg and her questing voice joined the protests of her entangled siblings. In the midst of all this, the great golden egg fell on its side and neatly split in two.

There was a suspended moment of nearly complete silence as the entire weyr strained for a glimpse of the little queen among the halves of her egg. The only sounds were the humming of the bronzes as they anticipated the Impression and welcoming of their future mate, and the soothing words of the three candidates who were sorting out the green, blue and brown off to one side.

Then a shining body emerged from the debris of the discarded egg, and a sigh of relief and admiration ran through the entire massive arena. The little queen was perfect—small, maybe, but a queen nonetheless. Her hide shone white-gold, with delicate lowlights of sun-like color upon her back and wings. She raised her little wedge-shaped head, delicately inspected herself, and then calmly started toward the knot of queen candidates.

"Spread out," hissed a girl from the middle of the knot, pinching and poking in her desperate attempts to free herself from the cloying gaggle. Surprisingly, the other candidates obeyed the voice—no-one quite knew who had given the order—and there was a sudden diaspora.

The little queen looked slightly puzzled at the sudden thinning of the ranks, but she continued toward the girls regardless. Vell felt her heart trilling like a frightened bird against her ribs. She caught sight of Rija through the waves of heat—they made eye contact for a brief, desperate second, their eyes heavy with the knowledge that one, only one of all of them, would be able to Impress the little queen. The realization weighed heavily on Vell's shoulders. A girl next to her fainted, and someone from the fringe of the stands, probably a healer, carried her off. She woke up halfway and struggled, seeing her chance fade.

"She's mine."

Vell looked in surprise at the speaker of the confident words, and then her surprise was tempered by a strange sense of anger and jealousy as she saw it was Siena. Siena lifted her chin and slid her eyes about the stands to make sure everyone was watching. Maventh crooned to her little golden queen to look well, and choose well. Siena strode forward, pushing two girls aside with sweet apologies. She made her way toward the little queen, who was looking at one of the girls farther down the line and humming to herself as she decided that this was not the one.

Vell's feet moved of their own accord. She didn't realize she was following Siena until she bumped into the same two girls that Siena had pushed aside a breath before. With a muttered excusal, Vell slipped between them and her strides lengthened across the hot sands.

Siena reached the little white-gold queen, who paused in her examination of a solid brown-haired girl. The little dragonet spared the beautiful young woman one brief, cursory glance; and then, unconcernedly, she returned to her inspections. Siena turned white with rage. She took one step forward.

Vell put her hand on Siena's shoulder. Some fierce attitude had taken possession of her—she hardly felt like herself. "Don't," she warned in a low voice. "Let her choose. If she doesn't want you, she doesn't want you."

"And you think she wants you?" snarled Siena, jerking away from Vell.

The queen paused at Vell's voice, and a tremble shook her from nose to tail. She turned and raised her whirling eyes to Vell, who paused mid-sentence, the words dying on her lips. Siena turned even whiter, then blood rushed into her face as the dark-haired girl's hand slid from her shoulder.

Vell was falling, falling into those whirling eyes—they were sweeping her away, claiming her mind and her heart and her very soul.

_I am Finneseth, _said the little queen, _and you are mine._

Vell smiled and laid her hand on Finneseth's head and announced to the gathered riders the name of their new queen.

"Absurd!" raged Siena, her pretty face twisted in a snarl. She cast about and turned toward the hatchlings that were just emerging from their shells. Among them was a third green. "I will _not _be passed over like some—some second-rate _kitchen wench_!"

Vell knelt and stroked Finneseth's head in wonder. The little queen hummed in pleasure, but her hunger crashed into Vell in waves.

_I am hungry, _the dragonet finally said after a long moment. Then she raised her head and her thoughts tensed with alarm. Vell stood and spun around and saw Siena striding angrily toward one of the unimpressed hatchlings, and saw the Weyrwoman's brow darken, and heard Maventh thunder a warning.

"Siena! Don't!" she called. The girl didn't even pause. Vell started forward and Finneseth urged her on in tones colored with fear, both at her newly beloved leaving her and some unnamed horrible possibility.

It all happened at once. Siena reached possessively for the green dragonet, Maventh roared, and Vell reached Siena just as the little dragon whirled and expressed her displeasure at being so handled.

Finneseth screeched as Vell fell to the sand. She blinked and disjointedly realized that there was blood sliding down her arm, into the crook of her elbow and down onto the hot sands. She heard Maventh roar again and the Weyrwoman shout and someone scream shrilly.

Then there was someone by her side—Rija. "Warith didn't mean it," the dark girl was telling Vell in a sort of desperate moan. "She's sorry, I'm sorry, she didn't mean it."

"I think I hurt my arm," Vell said dully in reply. Finneseth's concern was sharp as a shard of glass in her mind; she sent reassurances that she was all right, it was just a scratch. There was a flash of gold and Finneseth was pressing herself into Vell's side, trembling, her wet wings flapping awkwardly.

A pair of strong arms suddenly inserted themselves beneath her—under her back and her knees, and Vell protested as she was lifted, reaching for Finneseth with her good arm.

"She'll follow you," came Weyrwoman Arryn's voice, sharp with worry. "I've talked to her, she'll be fine. Don't worry. Here's Lira to help her along."

Vell blearily glimpsed a flash of blue-rider Lira's face, wet with sweat, and heard Finneseth consent to the Weyrwoman's gentle instructions.

"We need to get her off the sands," came a voice that rumbled against her, through the chest of the—man—who held her as easily as one would hold a child. She blinked up and saw burnished golden hair and a brief glimpse of blue eyes darkened with concern.

"Who're you?" she murmured as he carried her off the sands.

"K'lin, rider of bronze Pertanth," replied the man.

"Mmm," said Vell. She squinted one eye open again, her mind clearing a bit as she got a breath of cooler air. "Vell. Rider of gold Finneseth." A smile curved her lips as she said it. "Now let me down."

"No," said K'lin.

Vell managed to kick him as they reached the exit, and with a muffled oath he came to the tunnels and set her down, none too gently. She promptly turned and gathered Finneseth to her, ignoring the flash of pain from her left arm. Pausing, she examined the cut and said, "It's not too bad, really." She looked at K'lin. "Finneseth needs to be fed." The little queen was panting with hunger.

"Not until—"

"Don't you tell me to neglect her," said Vell fiercely. She started off toward the room where she knew buckets of meat awaited them. "You've a dragon too, K'lin. I would think you'd know better."

"I—" K'lin gave a sigh of frustration and followed the dark-haired young woman. "I'll get a healer to come to the feeding room."

"Fine," assented Vell. She addressed Finneseth, an adoring smile lighting up her pale face. "Come, dearest. Let's get you fed."

K'lin watched the young woman, one hand on the white-gold queen, walk slowly down the passageway, patiently helping the dragonet disentangle herself from her wings now and again. For a brief instant a smile touched his lips, and then he turned to summon a healer to attend to Benden's newest queen-rider.


	6. Chapter 6

**I wrote this when I should have been studying Russian...oh well, that's me for you. Hah. I just enthralled myself and couldn't stop. Hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it!**

**Arwen, over and out.**

After the last dragonet had hatched, Arryn felt a great relief, releasing the tension that she had grown accustomed to over the past months. Maventh rumbled in satisfaction, surveying the ruins of the hatchlings' eggs, glistening wetly on the golden sands. In all, her clutch had produced two browns, four greens, four blues and one bronze, in addition, of course, to white-gold Finneseth, the new pride of Benden Weyr.

_You're amazing, Mav, _Arryn said, leaning against the green's neck. She smiled and noticed that the stands, as they were emptying, were still buzzing, and every now and again someone—mostly riders, but here and there a Holder—would yell their congratulations across the sands, or their dragons bespoke Maventh with praise for her dragonets. Arryn felt herself blushing, the tips of her ears heating at such unreserved words.

Ereth launched from his perch at the rim of the Hatching Grounds and glided down, his powerful wings folded carefully against his sides. He landed in a spray of sand—Maventh put a wing out and shielded Arryn, huffing in annoyance. The bronze made a sound as if to say, _Don't look at me like that, I can't help that I'm a reservoir of raw masculinity. _

_Males,_ said Maventh disparagingly, drawing back her wing and settling it again daintily as Arryn brushed herself off. She yelped in surprise as someone grabbed her around the waist from behind and swung her around—she was close to kneeing the unknown assailant in a very uncomfortable place when she saw it was T'ran, a grin brightening his face. He kissed her soundly, one arm still around her waist, his other hand cradling her head. A few whistles and playful catcalls resounded from the stands.

"Oy! Loverboy!"

Arryn chuckled into T'ran's kiss as she recognized V'remnar's boisterous voice. T'ran drew back reluctantly with a long-suffering sigh.

"Hey, they're asking after you two in the feeding room," said the blond bronze-rider good-naturedly. He grinned and winked at his former weyrmate. "Sorry for interrupting."

"It's just as well," said Arryn. She poked T'ran in the chest. "I almost kicked you in the—well, you know."

"Why?" T'ran asked her with innocently widened eyes.

"Think about it," said Arryn amiably as they started off the sands toward the feeding room. "How would _you_ feel if someone grabbed you from behind?"

"Spoilsport," muttered T'ran. She ruffled his hair and he grinned.

"All right, you two," said V'remnar as they reached the passageway. "Can you try for a few minutes to act like the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader?"

"Maybe," assented Arryn. T'ran rolled his eyes and grinned at V'remnar. "Come on, then. We've got to go instill fear in the hearts of these new riders."

"Well, maybe not _that_ much like the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader," clarified V'remnar. Arryn grinned at him as she stepped into the room.

Ursina had wanted to move the feeding room to a smaller chamber down the passageway, but Arryn had adamantly refused, insisting that they would use the traditional room, the room that had been used at _her_ Hatching. Some part of her felt like it was silly, to use such a big room when there were only twelve hatchlings, but a fierce pride flared up whenever anyone suggested treating these little dragons—her Maventh's little dragons—any differently than the other clutches of Benden. A smile touched her mouth unbidden as she paused at the door, watching the clumsy dragonets devour their first meal. The little green that had made her dramatic entrance—Ariath, if she remembered correctly—cavorted about with a piece of meat dangling in her jaws, prancing around with her head held high. Her rider, a small, light-boned girl with a pretty face, giggled uncontrollably.

Arryn recognized Paela off to one side, binding the arm of the raven-haired girl who'd Impressed the little white-gold queen. Rieneth, the strapping bronze of the clutch, spread his wings and clamored loudly for more meat, despite the fact that his new rider had shoved a fistful of raw stuff toward him only seconds before. But the lad only grinned at his dragon's bossy voracity, and commandeered another bucket of food.

In all, the new riders were all smudged with sand and dirt and some even had pieces of shell sticking to their hair or clothes; but they paid that no mind as they tended to the hunger of their new lifemates, eyes shining with the unbridled joy that only Impression could evoke. Arryn heard snatches of their conversations, taut with happiness and breathlessness on the young riders' parts, and hunger and love on the dragonets' ends. T'ran touched her arm. "Are we going to stand here all day?" he teased softly. "I could get someone to draw up a sketch for you. It might be faster."

She elbowed him lightly and pushed the door open fully, making her official entrance. Immediately, the riders quieted, and most of the hatchlings settled themselves, though all of them squirmed from time to time and a few nosed about for more food, which their riders hastily procured, eyes wide.

"First of all," said Arryn, "congratulations on your Impression, and welcome to Benden Weyr." A few tentative smiles. Shards. Was she really that intimidating? "As soon as you and your dragon have finished here, we will bring you to your new weyrs, and you can get cleaned up for the feast tonight." She smiled in what she hoped was a kind manner. "There's no hurry. Weyrleader T'ran and I, as well as some of the other leadership of the weyr, will be coming around and learning your names. I want to get to know each and every one of you," said Arryn warmly, with the utmost sincerity, "because we're family now. That's what a weyr is." They looked a little less frightened at that. "Now, I hear some hungry dragonets…please, continue feeding your dragons as we come around."

The young men and women hastily complied, hands immediately searching for strips of meat and finding eye-ridges and noses to rub affectionately. A few were quick enough to catch the Weyrwoman's casual reference to her unusual ability, and there were a few murmurs, but their glances were respectful.

Arryn felt her heart squeeze as she walked further into the room. It seemed like just yesterday that she had been sitting in this very room, watching Maventh pounce on meat and fling it about…actually, she revised that thought. It didn't feel like yesterday, not with everything that had happened. But still, it was nice to think of it in such a cliché way for a minute. She winked at T'ran as he made his way toward the opposite side of the room, and V'remnar grinned at her cheekily, heading toward the solitary bronze-rider of the bunch. Arryn watched long enough to see the lad wince when V'remnar clapped him enthusiastically on the back. Then, with a low chuckle, she turned to the nearest rider.

"Hello," she greeted him, extending her hand. He looked at it for a moment as though he didn't know what to do with it…so she gripped his forearm and grinned at his surprise. "I'm Arryn, rider of green Maventh."

"I'm Paren—P'ren," corrected the young man hastily, flushing. "This is Delth."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, P'ren, rider of brown Delth," replied Arryn formally, grinning. The brown-rider grinned hesitantly in return; then Delth butted his knee and creeled for meat. Arryn moved on to the next introduction: the small girl, the one that had Impressed the little green that so reminded her of a young Maventh.

"Hello," she said again. Green Ariath looked up at her with whirling eyes and promptly abandoned her meat.

_Hello. I am Ariath. You are my mother's rider. I know so because she used to sing to us about you. _ Ariath riffled her wings. _Sometimes her songs were sad because she was afraid for us. I didn't like those songs and I tried to tell her that we were all perfectly fine and to stop worrying like a mother wherry. But she didn't listen to me. _

_ Perhaps that's because she couldn't hear you properly yet, _said Arryn gently, smiling. She was thoroughly enjoying these introductions.

_Oh, no. I'm quite sure she could hear us. Marlin, can I have more meat?_ The little green didn't so much ask as demand. The girl—Marlin—obligingly fished out a dripping piece of meat from the bucket on the table. Arryn politely tuned out Marlin's doting reply. Then she extended her hand.

"Hello," she said. "I'm Arryn, rider of green Maventh."

Marlin snorted. "As if we didn't all know that already," she said offhandedly as she finished feeding Ariath. Then she whitened and looked up at Arryn in mortification. "Did I really just say that?"

"Yes," smiled Arryn. "But don't worry. It's all right. I don't bite often."

"Well, I'm sure I'll work on that," said Marlin firmly. She gripped Arryn's forearm. "Marlin, rider of green Ariath." Her voice bubbled into an excited little laugh at the end of her sentence as she introduced herself as a rider for the first time.

"Pleased to meet you, Marlin," said Arryn. Ariath squawked in indignation, her wings flipping askew as she twitched her tail. "And you as well, Ariath."

Mollified, the little green sat back primly and looked adoringly up at Marlin.

Next there was the first blue-rider, the small boy. I have to stop thinking of them as children, Arryn thought to herself as she made her way over to his table. They're really only a few Turns younger than me.

"Hello," she said in greeting. When the blue-rider froze in what she recognized as complete social terror, she asked, "Can I sit down?"

He nodded, still looking petrified. Arryn slid into the other bench, sighing as her tired muscles stretched. She smiled at him. "Don't look so enthusiastic," she said with a wry smile. The boy blushed and stroked his blue's neck. Arryn stuck her hand out across the table. "I'm Arryn, rider of—"

"Green Maventh," the boy said. "I know." He smiled, still unsure. "This is Parnileth," he said. The blue garbled in pleasure at his rider's attention, pressing his head into the boy's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Parnileth," said Arryn seriously. Then she looked keenly at the boy. "What's your name, if I may ask?"

He colored again and mumbled something.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you." Arryn leaned forward a bit, trying to translate the murmur.

"I don't know," said the blue-rider finally in misery.

"What do you mean?" asked Arryn. Had he forgotten his own name in the excitement of the Hatching? She shook her head slightly. Stranger things had happened, after all.

"It sounds stupid," burst out the young rider. Parnileth crooned and rubbed his head against his rider's chest. "I…my name is Shelt. Sh'lt? It sounds stupid. No-one will be able to pronounce it." He lowered his head unhappily.

"Oh, come now," said Arryn encouragingly. "It's not as bad as all that. You could just…rearrange it a bit," she suggested.

"How?" demanded the blue-rider.

"Sh'let? That's really not changing it much. And it sounds very tough," she added encouragingly.

After a long moment, he gave a little laugh. "I'm eighteen Turns, with all due respect, Weyrwoman. I don't fall for things like that anymore. But then I suppose I was acting like I was five, a few minutes ago." He brightened and offered his hand. "Sh'let, rider of blue Parnileth, at your service."

Arryn half-expected Sh'let to kiss her hand when she extended it again, but he merely gripped her forearm and said, "Thank you."

"Nice to meet you, Sh'let," replied Arryn with a smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see whether there's any other crises to be averted. High and mighty Weyrwoman, and all."

"Of course," smiled Sh'let. Then he turned his attention back to his Parnileth, and Arryn moved on to the next new rider.

By the end of a half hour, she had introduced herself to eleven of the twelve new riders. In addition to Marlin and green Ariath, Sh'let and blue Parnileth, and P'ren and brown Delth, there was Rija and green Warith—the green, Arryn remembered, that had lashed out blindly at the new queen-rider, but it was no fault of hers—J'tor and bronze Rieneth; U'tel and blue Ioreth; M'lorin and brown Sineth; S'tol and blue Zaroth; K'lorin (M'lorin's twin—Arryn groaned internally—how would she ever tell them apart?) and blue Varinelth; D'van and green Nialketh; and finally, Maritesel with green Raleth. She met all of them. And that led her to the back of the room, where, at a table by herself, was Benden's newest queen-rider.

"Hello," Arryn said softly. The girl—young woman, Arryn reminded herself sternly—jumped and looked up. She stood hastily.

"Um," she said, pressing together her perfectly formed lips. Then the little white-gold queen pressed against her legs, and the girl—young woman!—cleared her throat. "Vell, rider of gold Finneseth, at your service, Weyrwoman." Vell extended her hand shakily.

Arryn suppressed her rising tide of dislike—she didn't know why, but something about the new rider annoyed her. Then she put her finger on it. "You know you were irresponsible today."

The girl's tentative smile faltered.

"After you Impressed Finneseth, you placed yourself in danger," continued Arryn, not unkindly; but her green eyes were cool as she regarded the successor who would take responsibility for the weyr. Her weyr.

"I—I couldn't just let Siena get hurt," protested Vell. "Finneseth warned me—she told me—"

"First of all, that girl was as stupid as a wherry egg," interrupted Arryn. "Second of all, of course Finneseth would warn you. She's a queen, albeit one that only hatched a few hours ago. She's more sensitive to the emotions of other riders and dragons than all the others. You have to know when to listen to her and when to put your own safety above her advice," she finished firmly. She gripped Vell's forearm and gazed into the girl's grey-blue eyes. "You are the rider of the only queen of Benden Weyr," she said softly, intently, her fingers holding Vell's arm in a firm grasp, "and if you die, Finneseth dies. Remember that before you throw yourself in front of any more angry dragons."

The girl drew in a shaky breath. "I'll try, Weyrwoman."

"You either do or you don't," Arryn heard herself say. "Now, finish feeding Finneseth and get cleaned up."

"Yes, Weyrwoman," Vell said, chastened.

Arryn walked away, her head swimming. T'ran glimpsed her and quickly finished his conversation.

"Are you all right?" he asked, touching her elbow as they made their way to the door. Arryn paused outside the room and gulped in a few breaths of cool passageway air.

Then she gathered herself and smiled at him and said, "Of course. It's just been a long day, that's all."

"Well, we still have the feast," T'ran reminded her. "That is…unless you're too tired to go…"

"No, no, I'm fine," said Arryn quickly. "I just want to go take a bath, that's all."

"All right," said T'ran. He kissed the top of her head. "I'll meet you back in the weyr. I was talking to J'ron."

Arryn murmured a distracted assent and made her way down the passageway. T'ran watched her go. If there was one being besides his own dragon that he knew like the back of his hand, it was Arryn, and he knew that something more than the stress of the Hatching was weighing heavily on her mind. But he squared his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair, reminding himself of his duties; and he turned back into the feeding room, to finish his conversation.


	7. Chapter 7

**To make up for the delay...extra long chapter!! Hope you enjoy the romantic deliciousness. And I'm off to bed.**

**Arwen**

Arryn sighed and sat down heavily in the first chair that presented itself. She dropped her head into her hands, trying to force back the headache that was creeping out from the back of her skull. She tensed for an instant when a pair of hands settled on her shoulders and gently began kneading her taut muscles.

"You're tense," murmured T'ran. Arryn closed her eyes and leaned back into his familiar, comforting touch.

"Yes," she agreed with a half sigh. "I just feel like…whenever I walk into the room, there's twelve pairs of eyes on me, judging every move I make."

T'ran chuckled softly. "Where have you been for the past four months?" he asked gently. "That's the way it's always been."

"No." Arryn frowned, trying to articulate her thoughts. "It's different. These new riders, I'm the first Weyrwoman they'll know. Think about it. That's a huge responsibility. All the others here at Benden, they knew Linnara, and the Weyrwoman before her, before things twisted around."

"Twisted around?" T'ran's hands paused as he asked the question. "What do you mean by that?"

"Only that I feel, sometimes, out of place," Arryn replied softly. "Sometimes, I just want these shoulderknots to disappear, and be a fighting rider again, no more than a green-rider."

T'ran's arms slid around her and he kissed the top of her head. "You know what?" he said into her hair. "I was stark terrified when I learned I would be Weyrleader. I thought I was totally and completely unprepared."

"But you're a bronze-rider," pointed out Arryn, settling back into his arms and leaning her head on his shoulder. "Bronze-riders are _supposed_ to be Weyrleaders. Bold, courageous bronze-riders."

"Well, one out of three," replied T'ran teasingly. "I didn't think I was ready. Then I thought of you."

Arryn made a sound of disbelief and twisted to face him, tendrils of unruly hair escaping her braid. "You're just saying that," she said, green eyes accusing. She couldn't decide whether he was teasing or just being sarcastic—and then she saw the weighty solemnity in his grey eyes.

He released his hold on her, moved around the back of the chair and picked her up as easily as he would handle a child. He resettled them both on the chair, Arryn draped comfortably across his lap. She made a sound of contentment and closed her eyes.

"Don't go to sleep on me," he admonished. "Not when I was about to say something so important."

"I'm not sleeping," retorted Arryn. "I'm resting my eyes."

T'ran made a face.

"Stop making faces at me," Arryn ordered. "And yes, I knew that with my eyes closed."

"Hm," said T'ran. Then he sobered. "I want to tell you this, Ar. It's important for you to realize what others see in you."

"You're biased," muttered Arryn, squinting up at him.

"Bias aside," said T'ran, "just let me finish." He thought for a moment, grey eyes still and calm. "When I first met you, I thought you were one of the wildest girls I had ever seen. You fitted Maventh so well—remarkable, a stand-out among a huge clutch that should have been noted for the absence of a queen."

"It was," interjected Arryn. "Sorry," she apologized for the interruption at T'ran's quelling look.

"As I was saying, some of us—the bronze-riders, in particular—thought that you were only a pretty face, like some girls are. A beautiful outside and nothing underneath."

Arryn stifled a sound of indignation.

"But," T'ran raised his eyebrows, "you impressed us. Really. Determination and wildness bundled into one are a dangerous combination. Lira, too. You two were a constant conversation piece."

"Nice to know," Arryn said acidly, unable to resist. "Were you taking bets, too?"

T'ran laughed. The sound rumbled through her.

"Maybe," he said teasingly. "But does it really matter now?"

"Were you trying to make a point here, besides bringing up all these unpleasant memories?" demanded Arryn, sitting up. She extricated herself from his embrace and stood, arms crossed and eyes flashing.

T'ran stood as well. "I found out first-hand how loyal and courageous you are. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be standing here right now."

Arryn felt a flush heat the back of her neck. She knew she would never be comfortable with the memory of the tragic day that a bluerider and his dragon had died, burned by flamethrower splashback, while T'ran and Ereth had almost lost their lives as well, protecting Narenth. The mere image of T'ran as he was on that day—unconscious and bleeding, his riding-straps shorn straight through—sent chills down her spine, as cold as the lakewater they had plunged into to save their lives. "Can we talk about something else?" she asked uneasily.

T'ran looked at her and frowned. "You still don't see it."

"I don't see why you're trying to force me to look at myself in a mirror," Arryn replied testily. "There's no good in it, besides maybe making me more narcissistic than I already am. Besides, in a Turn or so this will all be over."

"Are you truly counting the days until Finneseth rises? She's only hatched hours ago," said T'ran.

"I'm counting the _minutes_," Arryn snapped. "I want time to have a life of my own again." She bridled at his silent look of reproach. "Is that so very selfish?"

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "No, Ar. It's not bad. It's just not what I expected."

"Not what you expected?" That hit her like a blow to the stomach. "I'm not some perfect goddess on a pedestal, T'ran! I'm only human! Is it so very wrong to want time to figure out what _I _ want out of this life, what I want to do with myself once I'm not chained in the limelight anymore?"

"Chained?" His grey eyes were dark, intense. "Is that how you feel?"

"Yes," she cried. "No—I don't know! That's what this blasted job has done to me—I don't even remember who I am! All the fanfare and song-writing, the ridiculous babble—I just don't want to deal with it anymore." She stood with fists balled, on the verge of tears.

"Arryn," T'ran said gently, stepping forward. She trembled when he touched her cheek with two fingers. "I may be a stupid, dense bronze-rider sometimes, but I love you, and if you don't want to be Weyrwoman anymore, then we'll find someone else."

"But you're so good at being Weyrleader," she said miserably. Then a new thought struck her and she stiffened at the shock of it. While he hadn't been enthusiastic at the start, T'ran was a good Weyrleader—he knew how to lead, and now he enjoyed it. She could see it.

Would he leave her for that girl? Would Ereth try to fly Finneseth, when the time came?

Maventh touched her mind tenderly. _You are upset. _

_ Do you think Ereth will try to fly Finneseth? _Arryn asked. She knew Maventh would have probed and found the thought anyway. Better to have it out and done with. She sensed the green considering, weighing the possibilities. Dragons weren't very good at analyzing the past, nor did they place great value upon worrying about the future. But Maventh was trying to grasp the concept, to better soothe her rider's fears.

_I do not think so, _she said finally. _She is a queen, yes, but I am _me. _And she is my daughter. _ Her tail twitched. _She would not dare. _

Arryn smiled a little bit. _Well said, Mav._ Then she blinked. T'ran. "Who else is there?" she asked finally. He didn't reply. She smiled wryly. "See? Even you don't have all the answers to every question, high and mighty Weyrleader."

Then she sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Come on then. We've got to get ready for the feast."

"They _will_ be expecting us," agreed T'ran. He followed Arryn to the sleeping-area, where their wardrobe stood. She opened the doors of the wooden closet and surveyed her clothing, making a face.

"I hate fashion," she muttered. "Colors, yes, they're fine, but why all these ridiculous cuts and patterns and flounces? Isn't nearly practical."

T'ran reached over her shoulder and picked out his own outfit in less time than it took for Arryn to complete her sentence. He flashed a grin at her and stripped off the shirt that was wet with sweat and sand from the Hatching. She eyed him boldly, green eyes darkening.

"We have to get to the feast," T'ran reminded her with a half-grin, tugging his clean shirt over his head.

"See what I mean?" complained Arryn. " No time for fun." She rifled through her shirts.

"Oh, we'll have plenty of time for fun later," T'ran said, kissing her soundly. "Come on and get dressed."

"Fine," she grumbled, selecting a deep green tunic and a pair of good leather breeches. She caught T'ran's arched eyebrow as she was about to tug on the breeches, and with a long-suffering sigh she pulled on thin leggings instead, ripping a knee-length skirt from the wardrobe and unbuttoning it savagely. Footwear, though, was no compromise—she tugged on her best boots, deep brown and shining with fresh oil, her glance daring T'ran to comment. He wisely kept his silence. After another moment, she picked out a belt to match the boots and then turned to him. "Ready."

With a small smile, he offered her his arm and she took it. Ereth raised his head as they exited the weyr.

_Maventh is hunting, _he informed Arryn. She grinned and shook her head.

_I know. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, _she replied. The bronze rumbled fondly and went back to napping. Arryn settled her arm through T'ran's, and squared her shoulders, firmly putting all negative thoughts out of her head. Tonight was a night of celebration for the new riders, and shards if she'd be the one to cast a pall over it.

xXx

_All right, love?_ Vell asked Finneseth as the little queen sleepily turned round a few times on the bed in their new weyr.

_Tired,_ replied the young gold dragon, fighting to keep her eyes open as she settled, curled neatly in the center of the bed, her tail tucked meticulously about her body.

_Well, get some rest, dearest, _said Vell, a thrill running through her once again as she stroked Finneseth's smooth, warm back. Some part of her was still reeling in shock and delirium—that _she_ had Impressed the newest queen of Benden Weyr. But the greater part of her knew that it was right; she felt it in her bones, when Finneseth spoke to her and when she looked into the queen's whirling eyes.

_Ariath wishes me to tell you that her rider wants to go to the feast together, _Finneseth said, her words blurring as she slipped in and out of sleep. Vell smiled as a new rush of love warmed her. She'd forgotten that queens had a connection with all the dragons in a weyr. It made her feel very safe and connected to everything, and then, at the same time, the knowledge that any dragon in the weyr could bespeak her Finneseth drew a thread of jealousy out of her stomach.

_Tell Ariath that I'll meet Marlin on her ledge, _she said, rubbing Finneseth's eyeridge. The little gold thrummed in pleasure as she relayed the message. _Now go to sleep, love._

_ Enjoy your celebration_, replied Finneseth before promptly following Vell's suggestion and falling instantly into a deep sleep.

The Great Hall of Benden Weyr blazed with music and light and the sounds of revelry. Marlin adjusted her sash fussily as they approached, paying no mind to Vell's look of increasing anxiety.

"I managed to trade Tess—Maritesel, that is—my green scarf for this one. I think red suits me better. And I think these armbands are simply brilliant—now no-one will confuse us all. You know they're bound to do that, what with three girls Impressing greens, and then you," she continued blithely. The new riders had been given cloth armbands for the feast in the color of their newly Impressed dragon—except for the lone bronze-rider, who wore red, and Vell, whose armband was white, simply because of the metallic color of their dragons.

"Vell," admonished Marlin, "you don't have your armband on. Put it on, before you get in! Everyone wants to meet you…you're the Weyrwoman for certain, you know, when Finn rises."

Vell squinted at the nickname. "It's Finneseth. She doesn't like being called that. And what if I don't want to meet everyone?" She could feel nerves tumbling into panic inside her, threatening to choke her. Her feet stopped of their own accord as they neared the great double doors.

"I don't think it's a matter of what you want anymore," said Marlin seriously. She looked askance at Vell's anxious face. "Come on now, you didn't expect this? Everyone knows that a gold-rider's got to put everything before herself. A Weyrwoman's duty is to the Weyr. Not herself."

"You grew up here," said Vell defensively, desperately stalling. Light spilled out into the gathering darkness, pouring golden over the ledge.

"You don't have to grow up in a weyr to know that, wherry-brain," said Marlin, not unkindly. She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Vell. It's a feast. A big party. No pressure. Just go in, dance with a few bronzers, eat a few bubble pies and get out."

"Dance?" Vell echoed.

"Your father's a Harper, right? Dancing should be second nature."

"If I start dancing, they're not going to let me stop," muttered Vell. She knew very well that she was a wonderful dancer—it was one of the few things she allowed herself a bit of vanity and pride over. If these riders saw her on the floor they wouldn't ever let her go. She sighed. "You go on. I'll just be a minute."

Marlin considered her. Then she grabbed Vell's arm and pulled. "No, you don't need a minute. If I leave you, you'll never come, and that just won't do. Benden's waited too long for this and you're not going to spoil it by being an anti-social stick-in-the-mud."

Vell tried to protest but it came out as a squeak as she stumbled along after Marlin, the smaller girl showing surprising strength. Her vise-like grip on Vell's arm only tightened as they neared the doors. She nodded to the rider on duty. "Marlin, rider of green Ariath, and Vell, rider of gold Finneseth," she said smoothly, as if she weren't dragging the new queen-rider of Benden Weyr behind her like an errant toddler.

The rider—brown, thought Vell dazedly as she glanced at his shoulder-knots—grinned and motioned them inside. Marlin pushed open the door, swung Vell in front of her and gave her a fierce prod in the back. Vell stumbled through the door, into the bright light of the feast.

She fought the urge to turn around and run away, back to Finneseth, as she blinked stupidly, eyes adjusting to the light. When her vision finally cleared, she stood for a moment more. The hall was filled to bursting with riders—she knew that this couldn't be just Benden. Riders from other weyrs had come as well, and she knew why they'd come—their reason was back in her weyr, curled up in a neat little ball in the middle of her bed.

"Don't be nervous," said Marlin into her ear, but when she turned to ask the green-rider for advice she was gone, already threading her way through the crowd, greeting riders and proudly displaying her emerald armband.

"Don't be nervous," Vell repeated to herself. Several riders at once glimpsed her white armband and started making their way toward her. "Right." She found herself enveloped in a rush of people eager to meet her—almost too eager—they pressed around her like a living sea, all smiles and curiosity. "Vell, rider of gold Finneseth, pleased to make your acquaintance," she said over and over again, the faces all blurring together. The stream of well-wishers seemed like it would never end and she was starting to feel hot and panicky again when someone touched her elbow.

"Care for a drink?"

She gratefully accepted the glass of wine without even glancing at her rescuer, allowing him to steer her away from the throng. "Thank you," she said in relief. Then she looked up and the rest of her words died in her throat. It was that bronze-rider, the one who had carried her off the sands at the Hatching—the one she had kicked. And to make matters worse, she couldn't for the life of her remember his name. She gulped at the wine. Shards, this was going to be a long night.

"Easy, now," he said with half a chuckle. Then he looked up. "Ah, Arryn, look who I've found!"

Vell froze and wanted to simply melt into the floor. By the First Egg, was there anyone else lurking around to add to the awkwardness and general embarrassment she was feeling?

"You've always been skilled at finding the pretty girls in a room, K'lin," the Weyrleader said at Arryn's elbow, his grey eyes dancing.

Vell choked on her wine. K'lin patted her back as she coughed.

"See, look what you've done," he said. Then he winked at the Weyrwoman. "I was just warning our young queen-rider about the dangers of strong Tillek wine."

Arryn rolled her eyes and looked as though she had a tart reply in store, but then she merely shook her head and smiled. Vell glanced between the two of them and wondered—no, it couldn't be. The Weyrwoman loved T'ran too much. And K'lin was grinning too broadly.

"There's D'man of Southern," said T'ran, glancing at his weyrmate. "We should go pay our respects."

Arryn made a face. "Duty calls," she said cheerily. "Well, have fun with our gold-rider, K'lin. But not _too_ much fun," she added devilishly, much to K'lin's amusement and Vell's added mortification when she realized what the words implied.

"You're blushing," said K'lin into her ear in a low voice. The feel of his warm breath sent shivers down her spine and she felt more blood rush to her face.

"I know," she said miserably, polishing off the last of the wine in her glass in one swallow.

K'lin stepped back. Shards, the girl was really mortified. He hadn't realized that her discomfort ran so deep…and he felt badly that he had perpetuated it. He could see that she thought she was a fish out of water. And he also saw that she had far more social grace than she realized: her awkward little smiles and half-laughs only served to endear her to whomever she was talking. Shards, he'd felt it—and he prided himself on being immune to most of the tricks up any woman's sleeve. He gently took her empty wine-glass—she was a bit reluctant to relinquish it, as if it were her shield against any further embarrassing encounters.

"Why don't you take off your armband," he suggested.

To his surprise, she didn't protest but for a slight frown. She slipped the white piece of cloth from her arm and stuffed it vengefully into a pocket.

"Now that you're nice and anonymous, why don't you come dance with me," said K'lin.

Vell looked at him with trepidation. She'd known that this moment would come and her feet itched to be out on the floor, whirling to the music that she felt in her blood. But a part of her struggled. If she stepped out onto the floor—with a bronze-rider so intimately acquainted with the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman—she was bound to draw attention, white armband or no.

K'lin sensed her hesitation. "Well, if you can't dance, that's fine, I can always find someone else…thought I saw a pretty little green-rider somewhere over there—"

"That's horrid!" gasped out Vell with a half-laugh, grabbing his arm. She had a feeling she should be glaring at him but didn't have the heart when he smiled. "Come on then, I'll show you how a High Reaches girl dances."

"Oho, pulling _that_ card, are you?" said K'lin as they threaded their way through the crowd toward the floor.

Vell didn't reply—they reached the large open space where couples were whirling away to a delicate melody supplied by Benden's Harpers. She gave a little shudder of pleasure—for a moment she almost forgot that she was at Benden, far away from her family. It was like being home again. Then K'lin took her hands and grinned at her, and they plunged into the dance.

By Faranth's egg, the girl _could_ dance, K'lin thought in appreciation as he watched his partner complete the complicated steps perfectly, her feet moving quickly, surely, her body supple and graceful—nothing at all like the hesitant, awkward girl of a few moments before. "Remind me to dance with you more often," he said offhandedly, and she blushed in pleasure.

Vell smiled at K'lin as he handed her off to another partner. Perhaps tonight wasn't going to be horrible after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone! After what I know seems like an absolute eternity, I finally managed to chisel out some time to write again! Sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this chapter...there's a nice bit of fluff at the end for those of you that enjoy that kind of stuff. Happy reading and let me know what you think!!**

**Arwen**

The next morning, Vell awoke to a piercing hunger. It took her several moments to realize it wasn't her own; she blinked sleepily and then was startled into full awareness by a sharp, demanding screech. "All right, all right," she muttered, rolling off the bed and discovering that Finneseth had somehow cocooned herself in all the covers throughout the night—still at the bottom of the bed, where she had moved to allow her rider room after the feast, all that could be seen of her was the tip of her nose and a gleam of her whirling eyes. Then she thrust her head out of the blankets and voiced a strident creel that stung Vell's ears.

"Shards, give me a second!" said Vell, hastily pulling on a shirt and boots. She paused for a moment, trying to get her mind to catch up with her actions. In response, the gold dragonet promptly clamped her jaws around Vell's calf and tugged, dragging her rider off the bed with a thump. "Ow!" exclaimed Vell, rubbing her backside. "By the First Egg, I swear, I'll get you fed! Come on!"

Finneseth loped along beside her, scampering here and there like a pup while they traversed the passages to the kitchens, where the buckets of meat for the dragonets were kept. Vell met several riders along the way and to her embarrassment, they all nodded to her, some more seriously than others, all giving her the respect of a fighting rider to their queen-rider. It was strange, to say the least. A day ago, she'd just been another hopeful candidate, mixed in with the many other girls, thinking dreamily of what it must be like to be a dragon-rider. And now…here she was, with the loveliest little queen that had ever hatched, being saluted as she walked through the passageways of Benden Weyr. Funny how things can change faster than the blink of an eye, she thought.

After what seemed an eternity of traversing passages and politely returning respects, they reached the kitchens. On a long, low table there were buckets of raw meat, set in a neat row. A few stood off to the side, empty and stained. The kitchen staff barely looked up when she entered, thinking her just another rider, but then a quiet slowly descended when Finneseth poked her nose out from behind Vell's knees, looking solemnly up at the buckets of meat. Vell strode forward in determination and took a bucket; by the First Egg, she would _not _let these people intimidate her! Then a small smile touched her lips. If they wanted to see a queen dragon, then see her they would. She knelt and began feeding Finneseth.

A few of the workers looked blatantly surprised at the voracity with which the young gold dragon devoured the bloody meat. One looked queasy and walked away. Vell continued feeding her dragon and slowly, ever so slowly, the hum of activity rose again in the kitchens. With a small smile of satisfaction, Vell watched as a young drudge pushed her bowl up onto the counter and then stood, transfixed, wonder rounding her eyes.

"Do you want to touch her?" Vell addressed the girl, who started and took a step back, unsure. Vell smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. The girl slowly nodded. "Come on then." _Finneseth, behave, _she warned mentally as the kitchen-girl inched forward, still hesitant.

Finneseth chewed a particularly fatty piece of meat speculatively. _Do you not trust me? I _am _my mother's daughter. _

_ And how am I supposed to know what that means?_ replied Vell with a hint of a smile. "Gently, now," she said to the girl, who nodded, her braids bobbing. The whole kitchen stilled as the young drudge put her hand upon the hope and the pride of Benden Weyr, her fingers brushing the white-gold scales timidly. Finneseth regarded the girl solemnly, her eyes whirling slowly as she crooned softly. Vell couldn't help but smile, feeling her heart fill with love, her chest so full that it ached.

_All right, Finneseth, _she said reluctantly after a long moment. _We have to get to lessons. The Weyrlingmaster won't be happy if we are late for the first lesson. _

_ I'm the queen, _retorted Finneseth with a hint of sauciness. _He won't care if I'm late. _

_ None of that, _replied Vell almost sharply. _I don't care if you're Ramoth herself, you should always make a good first impression. _

_ So we can be late after this lesson? _asked Finneseth mischievously, tail twitching as she slowly turned away from the girl and followed her rider.

Vell shook her head and smiled. Apparently Finneseth had inherited some of her dam's temperament after all; Maventh was famous throughout the weyr for her witty tongue and the occasional saucy attitude, according to Marlin, who'd got it from Ariath. Apparently Ariath was quite the precocious dragonet, bespeaking the older dragons often with many different questions…about what Fall was like, when she would be old enough to flame, if dragons with fat riders had trouble flying…she even asked an older green—H'rath's Plenneth, if Vell remembered correctly—about mating flights. The older dragons showed a remarkable amount of patience with the first-hatched of Maventh's remarkable clutch; Vell had noticed that, although the little dragons were barely a day old, the older dragons of Benden Weyr watched over them with a fierce protectiveness. The watch-dragon challenged dragons more stridently, the riders all looked out for their younger counter-parts, and there was a general air of watchfulness over the entire weyr, shrouding them like a child's security blanket. She didn't much mind it; it took a little bit of the heavy responsibility off her shoulders—when she thought about it, the enormity of the task ahead of her—protecting and caring for Benden's only queen—made her a little dizzy. This must be what Lessa felt, she thought to herself, remembering the bards' songs about the heroic queen-rider who had saved all of dragon-kind. Except Finneseth is only the last queen at Benden…not on Pern. She shuddered to think of the horrible weight Lessa must have felt. Then Finneseth pushed her head into the back of Vell's knee, bringing her back from her musings.

_Are you going to stand here dreamy-eyed all day? _inquired the dragonet. _You are the one who is worried about making a good first impression, after all. _

_ All right, all right, _said Vell, stifling a chuckle. _Let's go. _

The kitchen gradually grew louder after the queen-rider and her dragon exited, the hum of activity whirring back up to its normal speed—except for one young drudge, who watched the gold hide until its glimmer faded into the shadows of the tunnels, her chest aching for something that she knew might be beyond her reach.

Much to Vell's relief, they were not the last ones to the classroom. As the dragons were obviously small, J'ran, the Weyrlingmaster, instructed them to bring them into the classroom. The dragonets reacted in varying ways: blue Parnileth curled up under Sh'let's desk and went to sleep; green Ariath tried to eat a table leg, much to Marlin's chagrin and the rest of the weyrlings' badly-concealed amusement; green Raleth, a little emerald beauty, pounced on brown Delth and they wrestled playfully; and bronze Rieneth watched Finneseth with such concentrated attention that Vell shifted in her seat. She wasn't exactly uncomfortable—she'd expected attention, after all, but Rieneth, even though he was a fine young thing and the sole bronze of the clutch, was looking at Finneseth as though he had already claimed her. It irritated her pride a little bit—who was to say some older rider's mature bronze wouldn't want her little white-gold queen when she wasn't so little anymore? Yes, they looked upon her like a child now, but she could see it in their eyes—that hidden desire.

After separating Ariath from the table-leg and admonishing a downcast Marlin to better control her young lifemate, J'ran strode to the front of the room and cleared his throat, glaring at them fiercely through his one good eye when the room did not immediately fall silent. His blue Ulanth bespoke the young dragons sternly and they all meekly sat at attention by their riders' chairs. Even bronze Rieneth heeded the older dragon's instructions.

J'ran was an imposing figure, even in his old age. His hair refused to go white; it remained a steely sort of grey to match his iron temperament, and a long-ago Threadscore had slashed across his left eye, leaving a great white furrow through his eyebrow and down his cheek. Ulanth, too, bore the scars of many Falls, cross-hatched white and grey over his age-spotted blue hide.

"First of all," J'ran said, his voice low and close to a growl, "let me get this out of the way. You're not children anymore. I don't care how old you are." He paused, his eye sweeping around the room. "Doesn't matter if you're fourteen or over twenty, one thing I won't tolerate is whining like puke-faced little brats." He glared at them again, stalking up and down the aisles of the classroom. "Because guess what? You're not kids, but you're not adults yet either." He reached the front of the room and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're _weyrlings_." A small smile touched his lips. "And you're not dragon-riders until I say you are."

Marlin shot a slightly panicked look in Vell's direction. Rija looked as she always did, impassive and calm, one hand resting lightly on Warith. M'lorin and K'lorin, the fair-haired twins of the group, made the mistake of glancing at one another and trying to stifle a snigger.

"Something amusing, you two?" barked J'ran. The two instantly straightened in their seats, faces the picture of perfect angelic innocence. J'ran wasn't fooled. He strode over to their desks. "Care to enlighten me?" he growled. "Because I'll tell you one thing that _won't_ be funny, if you two don't shut your mouths and pay attention to what I have to teach you. One thing that I can personally _guarantee_ will not be amusing is if one of you—" his gesture broadened to include all twelve silent weyrlings—"die because you didn't learn how to execute a good turn or evade an ovoid of Thread or come out from _between._" He crossed his arms again and regarded the solemn twins. "It's easy to laugh when you're in a classroom. Up there—" he stabbed a finger toward the sky—"you won't have time to laugh. You'll be dead."

Unbeknownst to the now-sobered weyrlings, they were being observed from the doorway. Arryn stifled a smile at J'ran's tough talk. She remembered the first lesson she'd had as a weyrling—the dialogue had been very similar, except, she recalled with some amusement, it had been she and Lira who had sniggered at the remarks of the old blue-rider. She leaned against the doorframe and idly conversed with Maventh, who she found sunning on a ledge by the Weyrbowl.

_What do you think, Mav? _she asked, sending her the image of all twelve dragonets and their riders, silent under the harsh diatribe of J'ran.

_They will grow, and they will be good, _replied Maventh enigmatically.

_What about Finneseth?_ Arryn gazed at the white-gold dragonet, who was obediently sitting by Vell's leg.

_What about her?_ asked Maventh.

_Well, _said Arryn contemplatively, _traditionally, young queen-riders are taught by the senior queen-riders. We have no senior queen-rider and I'm not exactly qualified in that department. _

_ But you are Weyrwoman, _pointed out Maventh.

_Be that as it may, Mav, that still doesn't make me a gold-rider, and it doesn't make you a queen, _retorted Arryn. Her stomach tightened at the thought of spending hours on end alone with the dark-haired queen-rider—what was her name again? Nell? No, Vell. That was it. Vell.

_You do not like Finneseth's rider, _observed Maventh, fanning herself lazily with one wing. Heat radiated up in waves from the striated rock.

_It's not that I don't like her,_ protested Arryn almost immediately. Then she stopped. No, she did dislike Vell. She didn't quite know why—she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps it was because the thought of Ereth flying Finneseth kept crossing her mind at odd moments—like when T'ran kissed her or Ereth rubbed his neck against Maventh. In those moments of strange clarity, she felt with a sharp pain the emptiness that would fill her if they were taken away from her and Maventh. And then, inevitably, a surge of helpless anger followed. Anger at Finneseth for being such a perfect little queen, so beautiful with her white-gold shining hide and delicate wings. Anger at Vell for being such a perfect queen-rider, with her body that was ridiculously slim and curved in all the right places, unlike Arryn's rather boyish figure.

_You are jealous_, said Maventh with a strange undertone. Arryn realized that it was hurt.

_Oh, Mav, _she said despairingly, cursing herself for being so insensitive. _I'm not jealous of her because she's a gold-rider. I don't want a queen. I've never wanted a queen. You're perfect. We're perfect together. You know that. _ She felt, rather than heard, Maventh rumble in acquiescence. _I think it's just…I don't like her because she could take so much away from us. Not the position of Weyrwoman. She can have that. I just don't want her to take more than that. _

_ T'ran loves you,_ Maventh said with the utmost certainty.

_I know,_ Arryn said, surprised that Maventh had spoken of love with such conviction. Most dragons couldn't grasp the concept of emotional love—perhaps they felt it and didn't have a name for it, Arryn didn't know, but she'd always assumed that attraction between dragons was mostly a physical affair, as evidenced by the lust of mating flights. But it seemed that Maventh had wrapped her mind around the idea and liked it. Arryn smiled slightly.Yet another way that her dragon was remarkable, and she adored her all the more for it. She resolved to discuss the matter of young Vell's training with Lira, T'ran, Sh'len and K'lin later that evening. For now, though, she contented herself with glancing one last time at the dark head bent studiously over the sand-table at the front of the room, and with that she turned and made her way back to her weyr, her fingers brushing her double shoulder-knots idly.

T'ran looked up as she entered the weyr, and then bent again over the record he was examining. There were charts and maps spread over the long table at the far end of the weyr; he was plainly studying the layout of the next fall, tacking little colored dots onto the maps and consulting the thick sheaves of charts every now and again. His dark hair was mussed, as though he'd been running his hands through it often in frustration. Arryn frowned slightly—over the past weeks, exuberant as he'd been over the imminent hatching of Maventh's clutch, T'ran had often spent sleepless nights in front of the charts and maps in the record-room. Recently he'd convinced their record-keeper, a wrinkled little woman named Qala, to let him check out documents from the record-room and bring them to their weyr. When she was honest with herself, Arryn realized that she resented the intrusion of duty into the most private part of her life—her life with T'ran, her weyrmate, a bond dear to her. She cleared her throat.

T'ran looked up again. "Hello. Where were you?" he said distractedly.

Arryn grinned. "Watching J'ran perform his 'terrifying Weyrlingmaster' routine for the benefit of the young ones," she said. The smile slid from her face as T'ran only murmured something noncommittal in reply. She strode over to the table and inserted herself between the records and her weyrmate. "I think you're studying too hard, love," she said in what she thought was a sultry manner. Then she narrowed her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

T'ran sighed and looked up at her with pensive grey eyes. A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. "You know me too well."

"I'll never know you too well," Arryn replied, kissing him softly. He gently returned her kiss and then drew back, arms looping loosely about her waist as she settled onto the table, using it as a seat. "Now what's wrong?"

"Just…my mother again," he said, wincing. Arryn's stomach tightened and she sighed. "You know that I don't ever properly listen to what she has to say," he continued, "but I…lost my temper today."

"What did you say?" asked Arryn softly, although some part of her already knew.

"That if she couldn't accept you as her daughter, then she couldn't have me as a son." The words were low and pained, uttered quietly and laden heavily with regret.

"You didn't have to say that," she said softly. "You don't have to defend me. Let her say what she wants."

"Only to an extent," replied T'ran firmly, his voice altogether different. There was no guilt in it now. "There are some things that can't be taken back or ignored once they're said." He looked up at her and his hands tightened possessively around her waist. "I love you, Arryn."

"I love you too," she replied. "I'll love you no matter what your mother says," she said, voice dropping down as she leaned over him and kissed him again. One of his hands traveled up her back and caressed the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. With his other hand, T'ran slowly pulled Arryn down from the table onto his lap, inhaling sharply when she slipped her hands up his shirt.

"Your hands are cold," he murmured against her lips.

"And yours, my dear, are warm," she replied before words left her as he followed her lead. "Time for a break from all this work," she whispered into his ear. "All work and no play…"

"Makes me a very, very unhappy man," finished T'ran, his eyes dark with desire as he scooped her up and carried her to their bed. The morning wouldn't be a complete loss after all, thought Arryn dizzily and with no small amount of satisfaction as he deposited her on the cushions. Maventh rumbled in amusement out on the ledge at her rider's thoughts, spreading her wings to catch more of the rising sun.


	9. Chapter 9

**I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, honestly! And here's an extra-long chapter to prove it. I apologize for making you all wait so long...hopefully the inspiration sticks around for a little bit this time! I promise there will be more action in the next chapter...the plot will thicken tremendously (or hopefully, anyway.) Well, enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Arwen**

They were learning how to load firestone properly into sacks—making sure the weight was evenly balanced, and that no sharp edges protruded through the material—when J'ran looked up to find the Weyrwoman striding purposefully toward them, looking slightly harassed. Her red-gold hair struggled out of its braid and framed her face. She tugged at it in irritation as the weyrlings paused in their work to regard her with some sort of awe. A few of them had been skeptical at first, but after observing green Maventh and her rider at work in the last Fall, they held Arryn in almost as high regard as the Weyrleader (whom all the young men of the class hero-worshipped.)

"What do you think you're doing, picking daisies and frolicking in a field?" barked J'ran, his one eye narrowing as he straightened and brushed the dark dust from his hands. The little knoll was once again a humming center of activity, all the weyrlings ducking their heads and loading sacks studiously.

"Slave-driver," muttered Arryn affectionately as she grasped J'ran's arm. He shrugged, a twinkle in his eye, and gestured.

"Shall we walk, Weyrwoman?" he suggested.

"Yes," she replied simply.

J'ran studied the young woman covertly as they made their way out of earshot of the weyrlings. There was a new set to her jaw and a steel glint to her eyes. She'd always been willful and stubborn, he reflected, but now she was something more. Something different.

"I need to talk to you about Vell," she said without preamble, turning towards him and tucking her hair back again in irritation.

J'ran nodded sagely. "I was wondering when you were going to ask."

She glanced at him unhappily. "I just wish I could fulfill my duties."

"You could," said J'ran. "You are Weyrwoman. Do what you think best."

"That's just it." She blew out a breath and faced him. "I think it would be best if Vell was able to learn from a queen-rider. Someone other than me. I can teach her about being weyrwoman, but I know nothing more than the basics about flamethrowers, and as for the rest, the specifics of a queen's flying capabilities and such…" She shrugged and spread her hands. "I don't know. Anything."

J'ran nodded again and clasped his hands behind his back, observing her keenly. "Do you have any specific riders in mind?"

Arryn nodded, almost reluctantly. "T'ran talked to D'ran, of Southern." She smiled somewhat sheepishly. "They were fosterlings together for a little, at Telgar."

"Telgar?" The grizzled rider tilted his head a little bit in thought. "I do remember those few years when the children of the other weyrs were all fostered out…it was an attempt to create some sort of unity between the weyrs."

"Did it work?" Arryn asked, a spark of keen interest in her eyes.

The Weyrlingmaster shrugged. "In some people's views, it did. But it was rather complicated and the system required too much maintenance. There were too many chances for favoritism or worse."

"Hm." Arryn let the matter drop. "Well, in any case, D'ran offered to ask one of his queen-riders to train Vell. They have three at Southern, you know," she added darkly. "The rider of their junior queen, Shirath, has consented to train Vell."

"But they haven't had the lesson on _between_ yet," pointed out J'ran. "They just started flying about twelve days ago. Granted, Finneseth is a faster learner than most—all of them are, actually—" J'ran stopped and looked about. "Don't tell them I said that."

Arryn stifled a chuckle. "I won't ruin your image of tough old weyrlingmaster, don't worry."

"That's a relief," said J'ran with a wry smile, his leathery face spider-webbing into countless wrinkles. "It takes a lot of upkeep, that image of tough old bastard."

"I'm sure it does," agreed Arryn. "To answer your question, D'ran has granted permission for the queen-rider to come to Benden for Vell's lessons. Then, later, Vell can **_between_ **to Southern."

"Wouldn't it be simpler if Vell simply fostered at Southern until Finneseth is grown?" asked J'ran slowly.

Arryn looked at him stormily. "Do you know what that would do to this weyr?" she demanded. "Having its queen—its _only_ queen—move to another weyr because we can't arrange for her to be brought up properly?"

"I see your point," said J"ran drily. He cocked his head suddenly. "Thank you, Ulanth. Please tell Ariath _not_ to chew any firestone until we go over that lesson!" He gave Arryn a rueful smile. "Young Ariath seems to have inherited much of her dam's temperament."

"Are you saying that's a bad thing?" questioned Arryn innocently. "In any case, you'd better get back to your class. Wouldn't want them to think you were going soft on them, now, would you?"

J'ran gave her one of his patented glares with a quirk of a smile on his lips, and then strode back toward the knoll where the weyrlings could be seen bent over their sacks, no doubt planning a rebellion against this forced labor. "Let me know when the lessons will start," he added over his shoulder.

"Oh, about that," Arryn said, catching up to him hurredly. "They start tomorrow."

J'ran shook his head and rolled his eyes at the retreating back of the Weyrwoman. Some things never change, he thought in amusement. Then Ulanth informed him that Ariath had stolen Rieneth's rider's sack, and the stripling bronze-rider was rather annoyed about it. With a long-suffering sigh, J'ran trudged up the hill, sternly reprimanded Ariath—who had been traipsing about gleefully with the sack in her jaws—gave the sack back to a stormy-eyed J'tor (who was clearly far above the amusing antics of the pretty little green), and settled in for the rest of a long lesson.

After the sacks were properly stacked in preparation for the next Fall, J'ran dismissed the class—except for Vell. The dark-haired young woman looked a little nervous, waiting after the others had left, their dragons romping ahead of them. Ariath was the only one still small enough to be labeled as scampering—the rest of the young dragons had developed a sort of loping canter, too fast and excited for adults, but beyond the scrabbling and bouncing of their earlier days. Finneseth sat primly beside her rider, eyes whirling gently as she reassured Vell that nothing was wrong and she was quite sure they had both performed satisfactorily during the day's lesson. Nevertheless, Vell looked at the tough old weyrlingmaster and couldn't help but feel a little intimidated—his Thread scars slashed across his face, and Ulanth observed them calmly from the bottom of the knoll.

J'ran was silent for a long moment. "The Weyrwoman has decided that it is time to start your training," he said finally. "A queen-rider from Southern will be conducting the rest of your education, coming _between_ to the Weyr until such time that Finneseth is able to accomplish the leap to Southern."

Vell stared at the Weyrlingmaster. "But…I thought the Weyrwoman was going to train me," she said slowly, her mind whirling as she tried to process the information. "I don't want to leave Benden." Then she looked at him quickly. "I mean, I don't mean to say that I'm questioning the Weyrwoman's decision…" But she realized she was questioning the Weyrwoman's decision to push her off onto another rider. Was there something wrong with her, that the Weyrwoman disliked her so much? Obviously she didn't want to train her.

_There is nothing wrong with you_, Finneseth said firmly, rubbing her head against her rider's leg with unmistakeable affection, her eyes whirling with love. _There must be a logical reason behind this decision. _

_ Like the Weyrwoman hates me, _ replied Vell with a hint of self-pity. She couldn't help it. Beside the tense interchange just after the hatching, it seemed as though Weyrwoman Arryn could really care less about her. Maventh talked to Finneseth rather often…but on the rider side of things, the relationship was strained, no doubt about that. Vell endured the silence of the Weyrwoman, telling herself that once Finneseth rose and they were proper riders, everything would be fine…they were just separated by that most fundamental of experiences. And yet, now the Weyrwoman firmly established the fact that she did not want to deal with Vell, even in a professional capacity.

"You won't be leaving Benden," J'ran said, not unkindly. "Lessons start tomorrow. Dismissed." He turned, then paused, his wrinkled face softening a bit. "It's not that the Weyrwoman dislikes you. You must understand that she…has to keep her distance. If Finneseth's rising does not affect her…then, everything will be better."

"What does Finneseth's rising have to do with her?" demanded Vell. "Does she not want me to become Weyrwoman? Does she not think I'm capable?"

"No," J'ran said. "She thinks you're very capable, and Finneseth as well…and that might be the problem." He gave her half a conspiratorial smile. "I can't say more. Just think about it. And don't be late for your lesson tomorrow," he added gruffly.

"Yes, sir," said Vell, her brow creased in deep thought. She decided she would seek out Marlin and discuss this with a fellow female…perhaps another perspective would be helpful.

"Oh, don't be a ninny," said Marlin in exasperation after Vell explained the situation to her. "Honestly. Don't you see?"

"See what?" asked Vell stupidly, poking at her stew with a spoon. She didn't have much of an appetite. Her nerves were in a tangle over meeting her queen-rider instructor the next morning—she'd realized it would be her first interaction with another gold-rider.

Marlin leaned over the table, rolling her eyes. "_Think_ about it, Vell. What's Finneseth?"

"A queen?" Vell frowned.

"And…what's the Weyrleader ride?"

"Well, a bronze, of course," said Vell, shaking her head. Then it dawned on her and she dropped her spoon in shock. "_That's _it? _That's _what all this fuss is about?" she demanded, her first words coming out as a squeak.

"Keep your voice down," scolded Marlin. "It's a very sensitive subject, you know. And you must be deaf and dumb not to have heard anyone talking about it."

"Well," Vell said in embarrassment. She _had_ noticed that a lot of times her arrival killed conversations among groups of riders at tables or washing their dragons or just lazing about. She sighed. Did the Weyrwoman honestly think that bronze Ereth was interested at all in her Finneseth? But then, it did make sense…bronzes flew queens, after all…it was only logical…And then she shook her head, firmly, to get the notion out of it. _Honestly, that's just silly,_ she said to Finneseth.

Finneseth was occupied in stalking brown Grath's tail, working in conjunction with green Ariath, who was distracting the dark brown. _It's not silly_, the queen said, the glimmer of her gold hide shimmering through the long grass. She was larger than all of her brothers and sisters now, outstripping even bronze Rieneth by almost a full tail-length; and her wing-span was something, Vell had to admit. But her dragon's words, instead of inducing the usual calm, produced a sort of panic.

"I don't want to be a homewrecker," she moaned desperately to Marlin, who watched her dragon's antics with a mischievious smile.

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen," admonished the plucky green-rider. She slid a look at Vell. "You just have to be proactive about these things," she said slyly, watching P'tar's and his dragon's reaction to Ariath's coy maneuvers. P'tar glanced over toward Marlin and she smiled at him, producing a similar response in the brown-rider. "Don't you think he's handsome?" she said in a low voice to Vell.

"I suppose," agreed Vell with half a shrug. Marlin rolled her eyes.

"See? This is what I mean! If you don't want Ereth to fly Finneseth—"

"I _don't!"_ exclaimed Vell miserably, tugging at her hair.

"Don't interrupt," chastised Marlin. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, you just have to be…a little more forward. Pick someone out, you know…set your sights."

"Set my sights?" Vell repeated stupidly. She felt like everything everyone said was just going over her head today, like they were privy to some inner sanctum of knowledge.

Marlin sighed dramatically. "Don't you know _anything_? Your father was a Harper, yeah? So make like in those romances, you know, where the man woos a woman…except you gotta go about it the other way, see?"

"So…I'm supposed to choose who I want to fly Finneseth? _Now_? We've barely started flying, and it'll probably be a whole Turn more before she's ready to rise," said Vell.

_Not a full Turn,_ interjected Finneseth, still stalking Grath's tail—or napping. Either way, she was partially hidden in the long grass. _Ariath doesn't really want me to pounce on Grath's tail, so why should I? _she inquired innocently when Vell shook her head at her dragon's laziness.

_What do you mean, not a full Turn? _Vell demanded. _Why haven't you told me this before? _

_ It makes you nervous, and I do not like it when you are nervous. You get all upset._ Finneseth twitched her tail, soaking up the late afternoon sun.

_I'm not nervous about you rising, dearest, I'm nervous about what happens _afterward! Vell tried to explain.

_You are nervous about me clutching?_ asked Finneseth. _That is a silly thing to be nervous about. _

_ I'm not nervous about you clutching as much as I'm nervous about me being Weyrwoman, _Vell replied.

_You will be a good Weyrwoman, _said Finneseth decisively. _That is why I chose you. _

Vell shook her head and sighed. _Ariath's rider tells me that I should begin looking for someone whose dragon I want to fly you. _

_ That is not entirely your decision,_ Finneseth replied with a hint of irritation. _But it cannot hurt to explore which bronze-riders you like and which ones you do not. I cannot promise I will follow your wishes when the time comes, but I will try. _ The last statement came to Vell on a wave of love and affection.

_Thank you, love,_ Vell replied. "I guess you're right," she said to Marlin. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask," Marlin said in excitement, putting her hands together gleefully. She pulled Vell down to sit on the grassy knoll next to her. "All right. Well, _I _think that you and K'lin would go splendidly together."

"K'lin?" That was the charming bronze-rider who'd enticed her to dance at the celebration feast. It seemed like so long ago, and he was much too suave to linger over _her_ for very long. "Really? I doubt he even remembers me."

"Vell." Marlin made an expressive face. "You're the _queen-rider. _Everyone remembers you, silly wherry."

Vell shifted uncomfortably, picking at a blade of grass. "Well, I don't know. It's just, he seems…out of my league."

"Again…you're the queen-rider, you've got a buffet of manly deliciousness to choose from, and I expect you to make the most of it," said Marlin firmly.

"Do you want a bronze to fly Ariath?" Vell asked, keen to turn the subject away from herself.

"Does it _look_ like I want a bronze to fly Ariath?" returned Marlin drolly, looking at Grath, who was teasing Ariath with his tail, and his rider, P'tar, standing off to the side, looking vaguely amused.

"Oh. Of course." Vell sat and thought for a moment. "What do you think about J'tor?"

Marlin put up her hands. "Honestly, I really can't give an opinion on that one. We sort of got off on the wrong foot…but I think he's a decent guy. Seems a little big for his breeches sometimes, being the only bronzer of the clutch, but…" She trailed off and shrugged.

"Okay. Let's see." Vell honestly racked her brains for more bronze-riders, but she realized she'd been trying not to pay attention to the higher-ranking riders of the weyr. "What about V'remnar?"

"Nah. He's a nice guy, but not your type. And word is his Devarith is going after a green next time she rises…I forget her name, but she's the other one with the female rider, besides the Weyrwoman, of course."

Vell felt a grin sneaking up on her. Trust Marlin to know the latest in weyr gossip. Then Finneseth complained that her wings itched and needed to be oiled. "Well, thanks for the advice," she said. "I'll think about it." She stood and while she was brushing herself off, she paused. Should she tell her fellow weyrling the news J'ran had imparted to her at the end of training that afternoon? Fortunately, she didn't have to wrestle with herself long.

"So, what did the weyrlingmaster want when he held you after today?" Marlin asked, quickly standing up as well.

"I'm to start lessons with another queen-rider tomorrow," Vell replied, grinding her heel into the ground.

"Oh." Marlin's face fell, her normally sparkling green eyes flattening into disappointment. "Well. I guess…I guess I won't be seeing you around much then."

"Marlin," Vell said, reaching for her friend's arm. There were only so many of them, in this hatching, and she didn't want to lose the best friend she had at the weyr. "Come on. You know I don't have a choice."

"I know." Marlin nodded jerkily. "But still. Your choices are made for you, I guess." She gently disentangled herself from Vell's tightening grip. "I'll stop by, once in a while." A limp smile trembled on her lips. "Sorry. Don't mean to be mean, y'know, but…hey, Ariath and I, we're just a run-of-the-mill couple. Green and all."

Vell sighed. "Don't be like this, please." She felt tears prickling behind her eyes but she refused to give in to them. Weyrwomen did not cry over spilt klah. "I don't want to lose my best friend."

Marlin considered her for a long moment. "Fine then, I expect full reports on this queen-rider at lunch tomorrow. Or we can grab a cup of klah tomorrow night. And I want a pros and cons list for all the bronze-riders that could potentially fly Finneseth." At Vell's look of alarm, she snorted. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Well…sort of, anyway." And with a devilish grin she headed over toward the brown-rider, intent on establishing _her_ pros and cons list. Vell watched her flounce up to P'tar, and saw the way her face lit up…and wished she was half as brave.

"Come on, then, dearest," she said, beckoning to Finneseth. "I'll get that itch taken care of for you."

_I am not a dog, _Finneseth said, bunting her rider's gesturing fingers. Vell laughed and let her queen lead the way back to the weyr, with much to think about before the dawn of the next day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Extra-long chapter...with some intrigue thrown in at the end! Please review and make my day happy! Please?**

**Arwen**

Vell held her hair up as she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. Should she pin it up or let it down? She told herself it wasn't vanity, it was just her desperate desire to make a good first impression on the gold-rider who would teach her all there was to know about being a queen's lifemate.

_We are going to be late if you do not stop fussing, _observed Finneseth from her comfortable position on the bed. She tucked her tail primly over her forelegs, eyes whirling a lovely, contented shade of blue as she watched her rider.

"It's not time to go yet," retorted Vell. She'd fallen into the habit of speaking with her rapidly growing dragon out loud, if they were alone. "And besides, I just…I just want to look good, you know?"

_You are beginning to sound like Ariath's rider,_ replied Finneseth, ruffling her wings with a shimmer.

"Don't you like Marlin?" asked Vell, a frown creasing her brow as she decided that it would be more practical to put her hair up. She worked her dark locks into three thick sections and plaited it quickly, wrapping the long braid about her head in a neat coronet.

_Marlin is different than you. You should not try to act like her, _Finneseth said, spreading her wings as she uncurled and stretched, sliding down onto the floor in a motion of liquid gold.

"She's my friend. Be nice, please," admonished Vell. She slipped a last pin into her hair and surveyed her work, turning her head this way and that, finally satisfied as she tucked a stray thread of hair behind one ear. Finneseth stretched again, languidly, spreading herself out as if to show her rider how large she had grown over the past few weeks.

A knock sounded on the door of the Queen's Weyr. Vell jumped, startled at the unexpected visitor, and then collected herself carefully, thinking that this could be her first impression, if it was her new instructor. But as she came to the entrance, she saw a flash of green—darker than Ariath, and larger. Finneseth called out a bell-like greeting to her sister. _It is Warith,_ she announced, somewhat unnecessarily, as Vell saw Rija standing a pace back from the entrance.

"Good morning," Vell said cordially to the dark-skinned green-rider, but she was rather confused. She and Rija hadn't necessarily kept up their friendship, if one could call it that, from before the Hatching; it wasn't that they didn't get along, it was just that amongst the speed and furor of weyrling training, anything less than strong camaraderie faded into easy acquaintance.

"Hello," said Rija. Her eyes glanced over Vell's shoulder and warmed with appreciation. "Finneseth looks like she's grown since yesterday."

"I know," replied Vell with a smile. "It seems that way with all the dragons, doesn't it? I see Warith inherited some of Maventh's size."

Rija returned the smile, her voice warming as she spoke of her dragon. "Not all of it. I think she's just going to be one of the larger greens, not strapping big as a brown like Maventh. Anyway," she continued, turning back to Vell, "I don't mean to intrude. I know you've got queen lessons and all this morning."

"I've got some time," Vell assured her amiably.

_Now that you are done fussing over your hair,_ muttered Finneseth. Vell ignored the golden dragon's comment.

"I just wanted to come over and maybe give you a leg up," said Rija. Vell looked at her quizzically. "You see," explained Rija, "the queen-rider from Southern who's giving you lessons is my sister."

"Oh." Vell suddenly remembered the day in their room, before the Hatching, when she had commented on how nice Southern must have been, and Rija had recoiled from the very mention of the name. _I suppose it isn't so easy, when your sister is a queen-rider already,_ she said silently to Finneseth, who merely watched Rija with interest.

"Amhira Impressed Shirath about four Turns ago, when she was sixteen," said Rija. "So she's my older sister by three Turns."

"I see," said Vell warily, waiting for Rija to say something further. Had she come here to give a warning about her unkind sister? Or was it just sibling rivalry, rearing its head?

"She heard I Impressed Warith from someone or other," went on Rija, "but I haven't properly introduced them. Would you mind if I came by at the end of your lesson, just before meal?"

"Of course not," said Vell, a bit shocked at the question. "So," she said carefully, "Amhira and you are…on good terms?"

"Well, now that I've Impressed Warith we are," Rija said bluntly. "I was very jealous of her when she Impressed. I always intended to be a rider, and she was this close—" Rija held up pinched-together fingers—"to going to the Harper Hall to become an apprentice. But my mother convinced her to stand, just once, and she comes away with the queen. I stood for three clutches at Southern before I came here. The last time, I stood for Shirath's clutch. Everyone thought I was a shoo-in, and some people even said that Amhira would try to help me, convince the dragonets to pick me." She pressed her mouth into a thin dark line. "It was really…horrible. I almost didn't stand, because I just…knew it wouldn't work. And it didn't. And then I asked my father to let me come to Benden, and I Impressed Warith." She smiled brilliantly, more happily than Vell had ever seen her smile before. Then she gave a little shrug. "Amhira's nice. We don't get along sometimes, but we're sisters, and I'm hoping that now we can be friends."

"Well, thank you for letting me know," said Vell. "And I don't want to be rude, but I really do have to go now. I'll tell Ahmira that you'll be stopping by."

"Wait," said Rija as Vell passed her. "Could I…could I make it a surprise?"

Vell grinned. "Doesn't matter to me. Just as long as she won't make me fly extra drills or anything for letting her younger sister into her hair again." And with that, she and Finneseth set off toward the designated meeting spot, eager to meet their new instructor.

When she made it over the hill, Vell was dazzled by the light striking the hide of the largest queen she'd ever seen. Finneseth took off lightly from beside her, the air from her wings smoothing back Vell's hair. The young queen turned a couple loops casually as she winged her way toward the other queen.

_Hello. I am Finneseth, _Vell heard her dragon say capriciously, and she felt the edges of the older dragon's reply, enough to catch the name. Shirath. She lengthened her strides, not wanting Finneseth to reach the pair of instructors far ahead of her—she wanted the warmth of her golden lifemate against her when she addressed these strangers for the first time. But Finneseth remained aloft, turning more tricks above their heads. Shirath watched impassively, her hide a glowing deep gold—almost bronze—flecked with dark spots across her back and the ridge of her nose. A small brown woman stood next to her. Amhira was much shorter than Rija, and her face had a kind of soft beauty to it, in contrast to her younger sister's sharper looks. Vell stopped and stood as tall as she could, pushing her shoulders back like J'ran had taught them. She extended her hand formally. "Vell, rider of gold Finneseth, of Benden," she said, hoping her voice wasn't too high or nervous.

The smaller woman gripped her forearm with surprising strength, her dark eyes studying Vell's face as she replied. "Amhira, rider of gold Shirath, junior queen of Southern Weyr."

"I am very pleased to meet you," said Vell as Amhira released her arm.

A small smile curved the dark woman's lips. "You might not be so pleased in a little while," she said enigmatically, her low voice tinged with…amusement? Vell blinked, puzzled. "You wore comfortable boots, I presume? Good. Now follow me." And with that, Amhira took off down the knoll running. Vell stared after her for a breath, confused; and then with a jolt she scrambled after her instructor, using her long legs to her advantage as she strove to catch up to the quick rider.

"What about Finneseth?" she asked in bewilderment, drawing abreast of Amhira. The older gold-rider merely looked at her, one brow raised, and continued to run. A flash of gold passed overhead, and Vell glanced up to find Finneseth following Shirath in a fashion similar to the foot-race between the two gold-riders. The lighter-colored, younger queen strained to keep up with Shirath; it was apparent the full-grown dragon was merely flying leisurely, her large wings still as she coasted most of the time. Still watching the two dragons, Vell felt her foot catch on a rock and she hit the ground hard, tumbling, her elbows slapping the dirt and her knees stinging from the impact. She was still shaking the stars out of her eyes when two worn boots came into her line of sight.

"Separate yourself from her," came Amhira's voice, now authoritative. "You can't let your dragon be a distraction when you need to concentrate. Now, are you going to lie there all day? We have a run to finish." A small, weathered hand appeared in front of her face; and, ears burning, Vell took her instructor's hand and pushed herself up. Before she could brush the dirt from her knees they were off again, running through the tall grasses.

They made one full circuit around the Weyrbowl, and then made it back to their original starting place. Vell felt her legs shaking and runnels of sweat sliding down her back. Strands of hair that had escaped her braid stuck to her forehead and cheeks wetly, and her whole tunic was damp. She tried to catch her breath, throat burning.

"That was only a short training run," said Amhira, sweat glistening on her own brow, voice even and breathing steady. "If you can't keep up, I expect you to add your own runs, to be done on your free time."

"Excuse me," Vell said, finally able to speak. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but what does running have to do with being a queen-rider?"

Amhira's dark eyes lit up at the question. "Many riders overlook their total physical fitness," she said. "To be honest, all riders should be doing these runs, and other exercises as well, to strengthen your legs and back and stomach so that when you are in the air, fighting Thread, you're able to keep your seat when your dragons pulls a fast spin or a quick turn." She looked at Vell, another half-smile upon her lips. "Though I'm sure you'll think of it as my own special brand of torture, after a while."

Vell groaned inwardly.

"Now," continued Amhira. She sat down, motioning for Vell to mimic her actions, putting her heels together and drawing them in toward her body. Vell's legs protested. "For the rest of the morning, I'm going to see how much you know."

"How much I know about what?" Vell repeated stupidly, her oxygen-starved brain struggling to keep up with the conversastion.

"Everything," replied Amhira, a glint in her eye, and Vell had to stop herself from bolting in the other direction.

Two hours later, Amhira watched as Vell unbuckled the straps of her riding gear, face smudged with dirt and sweat. _What do you think, dearheart?_ she asked, arms folded across her chest as she observed the young queen-rider.

_I think that we have pushed them hard enough for one day, _replied Shirath, her shadow skimming over her rider as she passed overhead. A Benden bronze bugled at her, and she gave a teasing call in answer—poor bronzes, that had to wait for this little white queen to grow.

_Finneseth is not the only female dragon in this weyr, _Amhira reminded Shirath, hearing her dragon's train of thought.

_It is different, _replied Shirath. _There are greens and there are queens. _

_ What about this green, Finneseth's dam?_ Amhira asked, still watching Vell, who was struggling with a few more straps, her fingers shaking with fatigue. She felt Shirath pause.

_Maventh is different than both, _replied Shirath at some length. _She is inexplicable, but she cannot replace a queen. _

_ She provided a replacement, though, _said Amhira. Finneseth would not be spectacularly large, she thought, her eyes running over the proportions of the young dragon. But she would not be particularly small, either—she would most likely grow larger than Branelth, Ista's junior queen; and perhaps larger than Vynth, the senior queen of Telgar as well, Amhira decided. But who knew—it wasn't unheard of for queens to keep growing even after their first rising, after the other dragons of the same clutch had reached their full growth. It was all a game of chance, really. She refocused on the girl, who had finished taking off the gear and now regarded her with resigned grey-blue eyes. "Don't look at me like I just killed your puppy, Vell," she admonished, half a smile taking the edge from her voice. "We're done for the day."

Vell couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, and she didn't particularly care that Amhira saw her happiness at the end of the lesson. "Oh," she said, as she turned away, "there's someone who asked me to see you." Finneseth had already alerted Warith at the completion of the lesson, and had been assured that Rija was on her way. Vell looked up and saw Amhira do the same from the corner of her eye.

Amhira scanned the skies and spotted a dark-green dragon, smaller than Finneseth, winging her way toward the knoll. _Who is it, darling? _she asked Shirath.

_Her name is Warith_, Shirath replied, sounding puzzled. The queen stood and stretched out her neck in a watchful, curious posture. _And she says her rider's name is Rija. _

"Rija?" Amhira repeated out loud. She'd heard her younger sister had Impressed, yes, but she'd forgotten it had been at Benden, what with Shirath's weyrlings taking to the skies, and fighting Thread for the first time.

Vell watched Amhira and saw the surprise flash across the dark woman's face at the sight of Warith, coasting down to land a small distance away. Rija dismounted gracefully and walked toward them, greeting Vell and Finneseth, who were slowly making their way away from the knoll. Vell wanted to stay and watch, but Finneseth took hold of the edge of her tunic and propelled her away.

_Not everything is for your eyes, _the young queen reminded her rider, who chuckled at her dragon and agreed.

_I know, love. I'm just happy lessons are over. What do you say to a bath in the lake? _Vell asked.

_You need a bath more than me, _retorted Finneseth, looking her grimy rider up and down. _ I am hungry. I am going to ask Ariath if she will join me for a hunt. _

_ Suit yourself, _smiled Vell. _I'm off to the baths. _

With a last bunt at Vell's leg, nearly knocking her tired rider off her feet in the process, Finneseth took off and wheeled in the direction of the hunting grounds. Vell stood and shaded her eyes against the sun for a moment, watching her beautiful queen against the perfect blue of the sky. Her legs protested at standing still—actually, at standing in general, and with another sigh she forced herself to start walking again, thinking eagerly of a hot bath.

xXxXx

_The light of a glow-basket deepened the flickering shadows. A voice threaded through the darkness, low and inquisitive. _

_ "Did you find it?" _

_ The question hung in the stale air. And then came the answer. _

_ "Yes." _

_ Teeth gleamed as lips parted in a predatory smile. "Very good, Daskin. Now, I trust you know what you must do next?" _

_ "My lady?" The man's brow furrowed in consternation as he attempted to follow his mistress's train of thought. _

_ "We have the formula. Now all we need is the proper…subject," explained the low voice, velvety and smooth against the cold stone walls. A strain of impatience surfaced. "I am tired of waiting, Daskin. It took you long enough to procure the necessary ingredients." _

_ "My lady," protested Daskin, "we had to follow the record—after we found them we had to translate them and decipher the symbols. It was not easy to fool the healers into giving us the proper ingredients, they are safeguarded, they are dangerous—" _

_ "Enough!" snarled the woman's voice. "Do you think I care, Daskin? Do you think I care how _hard_ it was for you to dupe some wherry-headed apprentices into giving you some plants? By the First Egg, you could have stolen them!" _

_ "We didn't want to arouse suspicion," said Daskin, an undercurrent of defensiveness entering his tone. _

_ A soft knock resounded on the door. _

_ "Answer it, Daskin," hissed the woman's voice, "and tell me who it is before you let them in this time!" _

_ Daskin set the traveling pouch with its precious contents on a table, and made his way to the door. He opened it a crack and demanded roughly, "Who is it and what is your purpose here?" _

_ "Suffice it to say that my purpose here is with the lady," a smooth male voice responded. _

_ "Who are you?" Daskin asked again, hand going to his dagger hilt. _

_ "No need to be hasty, my good man," replied the man standing outside the door. "The lady is expecting me." _

_ Daskin growled in frustration but to his surprise, he found his mistress at his elbow. _

_ "Do come in, my dear rider," she said sweetly, "and tell me, what news do you bring?" _

_ "I believe I've found what you're looking for," said the rider, his face hidden by shadow. "But I require some payment." The flash of coin elicited a chuckle. "Not _that_ sort of payment, my dear." _

_ "You are overstepping your bounds, rider," said the woman softly, dangerously. "But let me hear what news you have brought me, and perhaps you shall get the payment you…desire." These last words were purred, and there was the whisper of flesh upon flesh. _

_ "A young queen at Benden, hatched not a Turn ago," said the rider, voice rich with self-satisfaction. "A beautiful young thing with a beautiful rider." _

_ The woman gave a low, delighted chuckle. "You are very good." She gasped a little as a tongue flicked her earlobe and the rider whispered into her ear, "You have no idea." _


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the long wait, school's got me busy. But here's a good chapter for you...tell me what you think!**

**Arwen**

Arryn sat on the knoll overlooking the Weyrlake, legs crossed as she watched Maventh turn a few sharp loops just for the sheer joy of flying before pinning her wings to her back and plunging into the lake, much to the chagrin of the two weyrlings attempting to wash their dragons in the shallows. _That wasn't very motherly, _Arryn teased as the young riders cried out, swamped by the wave Maventh had created with her dive. The two young dragons, a blue and a brown, gave squawks of indignation and promptly galloped into the deeper waters, no doubt adding to their riders' dismay. In the Turn since their hatching, the young dragons had grown and filled out, but many had yet to reach their full length. 

"Parnileth!" called out one of the young men despairingly. "We're going to be late for lessons _again_ if you don't get back here right away!"

Arryn stifled a smile as she recognized the young man who, just after Impression, had looked absolutely miserable because his parents hadn't named him with dragon-riding in mind, giving him a name particularly difficult to hyphenate. Sh'let, if she remembered correctly, with his blue Parnileth; and P'ren, with brown Delth. She turned her attention back to the two young dragons, adamantly pursuing their dam around the lake in the name of revenge. Maventh reared up and stretched her wings out, bellowing in what otherwise would have been a terrifying manner; but Arryn felt the glimmer of amusement in her dragon's thoughts, along with the enjoyment of playing with her rapidly growing hatchlings. They were almost a Turn old now, and they would move on to different types of play soon.

Blue Parnileth dove beneath the large green dragon as brown Delth mounted an offensive attack upon Maventh's forelegs. Between the two of them, they were fairly evenly matched against their dam—Delth was turning out to be larger than anyone had suspected when he'd first hatched, and blue Parnileth wasn't exactly lacking in muscle, even if he wasn't the biggest of the brood. With a swipe of her tail, Maventh tumbled Parnileth end over end, but that distraction allowed Delth to get ahold of her neck and wrestle her underwater. Arryn sat up a little straighter, a small prick of alarm needling her spine until she felt Maventh's amusement and pride in her sons' strength. The green dragon whirled underwater, the blue and brown doing their best to pin her.

"Looks like this is fun."

Arryn looked over her shoulder and grinned at Lira. "Mav's just having some fun with them, while they're still small enough."

The blue-rider took a seat beside the Weyrwoman, flopping down and leaning back in the morning sunshine. "You know what, I've decided that Benden has the best weather. We have to, to have our famous wine!"

Arryn smiled. "Glad you've finally decided you like the place after, oh, three Turns?"

"Not three _yet_," Lira corrected. "Almost, though." She smiled, eyes still closed. "H'rath says that Plenneth is going to rise again soon." One eye opened and scrutinized Arryn. "Has Maventh said anything? Plenneth's rising quicker than she is."

Arryn shrugged. It had been on her mind, yes, but she wasn't particularly worried about her dragon's next mating flight. There was a question looming behind it too, a question whose answer she wasn't quite sure she was ready to handle yet. "No. I don't think there's any rush."

Lira arched an eyebrow. "You think they actually have control over it?"

Arryn lifted a shoulder again. "What do I know?" she replied devilishly. "Maventh only was the first green ever to clutch. Who's to say she can't control when she rises, too?"

"Sacrilege," gasped Lira, punching Arryn lightly in the shoulder.

"Where's Baerth?" Arryn continued, still smiling. It felt so good to have a normal conversation…her close circle of friends—Lira, H'rath, T'ran, Sh'len, K'lin, and even sometimes P'tar—were really the only people who still viewed her as 'just Arryn.' To everyone else, she had become something more. A part of her recognized that it was normal, that change was inevitable, but sometimes she just wanted to go back to when she was still 'the rider of that sharding big green.' Life had been simpler. Easier. Full of less questions and more answers.

"Oh, he's coming," replied Lira with a wink, and as if on cue, the blue dragon arrowed down from the sky and knifed neatly into the water with barely a splash, joining the underwater skirmish.

_No fair!_ Arryn heard brown Delth protest indignantly as the older blue dragon caught hold of Parnileth's tail.

_Two against one is hardly fair, little one, _replied Baerth teasingly as he towed away Parnileth, who was writhing mightily. Arryn had to stifle a chuckle and politely tuned out the rest of the conversation.

"So, Plenneth is going to rise again, eh?" she said, elbowing Lira. "Just let me know, so I don't barge in on you two…oh wait, that's right, you don't need the excuse of his dragon rising to—"

Lira tackled Arryn and promptly pinned her down on her back. The blue-rider put one knee on her friend's stomach in a mock-triumphant pose. "Oh, and so you and T'ran wait nicely until Maventh's going to rise?" she inquired innocently.

Arryn looked skyward in an expression of exaggerated innocence. Then she looked at Lira, stuck her tongue out and promptly executed the new wrestling move in her repertoire, rolling and flipping Lira neatly onto her stomach, securing her arms behind her back. "Actually, we practice wrestling," she said, and then had to let Lira up because the blue-rider inhaled a large portion of dirt as she convulsed in laughter.

When they both regained control of themselves, they realized that their dragons' tussle with the two younger ones had ended, with Maventh sending the pair back to their riders with the admonishment to behave as their riders gave them a proper wash.

_That's rich, coming from you,_ Arryn commented. _You were always making us late, cavorting about when I tried to scrub you. _

Maventh swam over to the bank by her rider and emerged, green and glowing, from the water. _What is it that you say? Do as I say, not as I do?_ she said with a hint of devilry in her whirling eyes.

_All right, all right._ Arryn held up her hands in surrender. _You got me there. If the weyrlings did half the things we did, I'd put them on night-watches for half a Turn._

_As you should_, replied Maventh. She spread her wings a little to regain her balance as she made her way toward Arryn. _Dragons are not meant to walk,_ she reminded her rider indignantly as Arryn suppressed a smile at her dragon's distinct lack of grace on the ground.

"You're dripping on me, Maventh," commented Lira casually as the green made her way past them. "What did she say?" she asked Arryn, noting the green-rider's sudden smile.

"Oh, nothing you would want to hear," Arryn replied smoothly. She stood. "Well, I have to get to the chart-room. Next Fall in a day and all."

Lira rubbed her hands together in anticipation. "I can't wait."

"You enjoy riding Fall altogether too much," commented Arryn.

"You're just jealous, you Weyrwoman, you," said Lira. "Flying sweep can't be that much fun, even if you don't have a flamethrower."

There had been much debate over whether Maventh should be allowed to chew firestone after demonstrating her remarkable skill for procreation. After a few Falls lugging a flamethrower around, Arryn had successfully argued down the opponents of firestone consumption, pointing out that Maventh had been a fighting dragon before clutching, so why shouldn't she continue to be one afterward? It didn't seem fair. They had backed down hastily in the face of her righteous anger. A rider denied the chance to fly Thread was like a dragon denied the chance to hunt: dangerous. And the Weyrwoman's reputation of volatility had helped a bit, too. She smiled a little to herself, thinking about the looks on the senior riders' faces when she'd stormed into the council meeting, about ready to swing fists. Maventh crouched down and launched herself into the air with a mighty leap—although she was as big as a brown, her lighter build still allowed her to take off from the ground, unlike the bigger dragons that sometimes had to find the height of a large hill or even take off from their ledges to get airborne.

Arryn caught gold out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to see a dark, speckled queen winging quickly through the sky, followed closely by the white-gold queen that Arryn knew like her own child. A warm well of pride filled her chest as she watched the two golden dragons race through the clouds, their riders nearly invisible against their great necks. Then she shook her head. _Mav, I'm not the maternal type. _

_ She is mine, _said Maventh, bugling a greeting as she neared the pair, her emerald hide glimmering in the sun. _It does not matter that you think you would not make a good mother. She is mine and so you feel like she is yours as well. _

_ I can figure that out myself, _Arryn replied, hiking up another knoll. _I was just making sure you knew. I've heard you talking to the others, Mav. _

_ About what?_ the green dragon inquired innocently.

_Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about,_ Arryn admonished. _You and Baerth and Ereth, discussing T'ran and I… _

_ We were merely speculating as to when you will have children, _Maventh said sensibly.

Arryn stopped, putting her hands on her hips and scowling fiercely up at the sky. _Talk about it to me, if you want to talk, but I _won't_ have you gossiping with the others like a…a… _

_ Like a green? _asked Maventh mischievously, folding her wings to her back and rolling in midair. _I do not talk to everyone about it. I am sure you speak to Lira and T'ran about such things. Do not worry. _

Arryn sighed and rubbed her nose, walking up the steps that led to the terraces of the meeting-rooms. _We'll talk about this later, _she said decisively. _I've got to pay attention to Fall now. _

"Well done, Vell," shouted Amhira above the wind as the two queens glided in to land in an open grassy field.

Vell held on tight until Finneseth landed safely, and only then did she push up her goggles and smile at Amhira. Over the past weeks, she'd learned much from the older queen-rider, and was gratified to learn that her instructor and Rija had become fast friends as well. She had learned to go _between _ a few days ago, and while she had been scared stiff at first, it was now a rather gratifying experience. Amhira had said that perhaps, with the Weyrwoman's permission, of course, they could carry on their lessons at Southern. ("Although," she'd added, "there's not much more I can teach you.")

"So," Amhira said as she checked her riding gear for the _between_ back to her own weyr. "I've asked the Weyrwoman about our lessons."

"And we can continue them at Southern?" Vell asked, a hint of excitement coloring her voice.

Amhira smiled at the younger queen-rider, a bit sadly. "No," she said.

Vell paused and stared at her blankly, the smile falling from her own face. "What? But I thought…"

"I told the Weyrwoman that there wasn't much more I could teach you," said Amhira. "You and Finneseth are both fast learners, and as far as actually being a Weyrwoman, well, I'm only a junior one, and I've taught you all I know." The small dark woman pressed her lips together, pulling the end of her black braid over her shoulder. "And Vell, Finneseth will be rising soon. It wouldn't do to have her at Southern when that happens."

"We could come back," said Vell, brows furrowing. She didn't understand. It had seemed as though Weyrwoman Arryn had finally accepted her, especially since the weyrlings had started flying Fall as firestone bearers. She and Finneseth had promptly volunteered to fly with them, but had been relegated to flying sweep…even so, she'd thought that she'd earned the Weyrwoman's respect, with her willingness to work on equal terms with all the other dragons. But now it just showed that she wasn't on equal terms at all.

"Vell," said Amhira gently. "When Finneseth rises, you'll have trouble keeping the bloodlust under control, never mind going _between_ back to Benden. Now, after she rises, perhaps you can come visit…but until then…" She shrugged her delicate shoulders.

Vell sighed in frustration. "So I'm being held at Benden until Finneseth rises."

Finneseth swung her head about and looked at her rider reproachfully. _You say that as though it is a punishment. _

_ You rising is not a punishment, but being forced to stay here until it does…_that_ is punishment, _replied Vell, pulling the heavy riding gear from her dragon's neck with well-practiced ease. "So," she said to Amhira softly. "Is this our last lesson then?"

"Yes." Amhira nodded and smiled again, her dark eyes searching Vell's pensive face. "Don't worry too much. You know all you need to be a fine Weyrwoman."

Vell felt a blush brighten her cheeks at Amhira's earnest reassurance. "Thank you." She held out her hand and they gripped forearms. Then Amhira smiled and shook her head and threw her arms around Vell.

"Just because we're Weyrwomen doesn't mean we can't still be girls sometimes," she said into Vell's shoulder, making the taller woman smile. "Now, take care of yourself, and Finneseth, and come visit when you are able."

"I will," nodded Vell, swallowing against the knot in her throat. Finneseth curved her neck over Vell's shoulder and pressed her great cheek against her rider's chest as their mentors flew up into the sky and then winked out. Vell sighed and rubbed Finneseth's eyeridge. The queen rumbled in pleasure.

_Do not be so sad, _she said to her rider. _It will not be long before you can visit Shirath's rider. _

_ What do you mean by that? _Vell demanded. Finneseth pushed against her chest, huffing air into her face.

_Sometimes you are slow for a gold-rider, _the dragon commented with a hint of amusement. _Have you not noticed how I glow? _ As she said this, she preened, spreading out her wings to let the sun filter through them in golden rays. A passing bronze nearly flew into a green as he ogled her, bugling his appreciation. Vell felt sick.

_I'm not…I don't think I'm ready,_ she said desperately, feeling the hot edge of Finneseth's lust, lurking just under the surface of the great golden queen's mind.

_They have waited, and I am grown, and I am ready,_ said Finneseth, stretching out her white-gold length. She was only about half a tail-length smaller than Shirath, and much larger than her dam and the bronzes, outstripping even great Ereth by at least a length.

_But…I haven't…_Vell shook her head in despair and resigned herself to the idea of Finneseth's rising. She closed her eyes, and opened them to the loving opalescent whirl of Finneseth's gaze.

_You are afraid, _said the golden dragon.

"A little," whispered Vell. "I haven't ever…"

_It will be all right, little one, _said Finneseth affectionately, a rush of love sweeping over her distraught rider. _I will not let anything hurt you. _

Vell sighed and smiled a little. "I know, love. I know. But you're not the one who'll be in bed with me." She patted Finneseth's neck. "Come on now, let's go get something to eat."

_Ariath has told me the herdbeasts are excellent today, _said Finneseth. _But I ate yesterday, so I will go bathe. _

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Vell.

_"How is the plan progressing?" The melodious voice wound its way from the shadows, as always. _

_ "We are waiting, my lady," said the rider, one hand still on the door. "Fall is tomorrow, and the young queen will rise soon. We are watching, and when the time is right, all will occur as you wish." _

_ "What about the experimental pair?" demanded the lady, her voice containing a harsher edge. _

_ "I thought we agreed," said the rider, stiffening a bit. "An experimental pair is not necessary. It might draw unwanted attention to us." _

_ "I want a trial," hissed the lady. "You knew this, and I still am empty-handed. This is inexcusable." _

_ "My apologies," said the rider, not entirely seriously. _

_ "Do not mock me," the voice said dangerously. "Now go, and do not return until you have found a suitable pair. Preferably young, and strong." _

_ "Yes, my lady," said the rider with a stiff bow, turning to the door. _

Arryn bent over the charts, studying them with a critical eye. "If we place Sh'len's wing here, with K'lin at an angle to the south, that would protect this hold more efficiently, while still allowing a wing free to catch the edges as the Fall heads out to sea."

T'ran looked over her shoulder as K'lin studied the map from a different angle.

K'lin nodded. "I agree. I think that's a good perspective. It's flexible." He reached for a cup of _klah_, and made a face as he discovered it was cold. He gulped it down anyway. They'd been studying charts and maps for hours, darkness seeping into the sky outside as they worked to rearrange the wings.

Sh'len studied the map from K'lin's angle, as P'tar and H'rath discussed the most efficient arrangement of the blues and greens. V'remnar hunted about the tables until he found a half-eaten pastry. He considered it and then ate it leisurely. Arryn rubbed her hands over her eyes.

A knock came at the door, startling them all. They paused, and the knock came again, turning to frantic pounding within a few seconds.

"All right," said V'remnar, opening the door. "What is it?" he demanded of the pale weyrling. "Why are you interrupting us?"

"Sir," the young man managed to get out, looking absolutely petrified. He swallowed. Sh'len stepped forward and put a hand on big V'remnar's broad shoulder.

"What is it that you need?" the brown-rider asked kindly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the young rider said, still sounding short of breath, "but I was told to come to you…they didn't know who else…might be able to help."

"Help with what?" Sh'len asked. Arryn walked up behind him, and recognized P'ren, the rider of brown Delth.

"P'ren," she said, a hint of concern in her voice. "What is it?" The lad was responsible. She was sure he wouldn't interrupt the senior leadership of the weyr for no reason.

"It's Sh'let," P'ren said, eyes pained and panicked.

"What about Sh'let?" asked Arryn, her focus narrowing to P'ren, and the answer he was about to give, a mother's sharp worry edging her features.

"He's gone," said P'ren.

"Gone? What do you mean?" demanded Arryn. "Has he run off, or gotten lost?"

"No," said P'ren, shaking his head, the beginnings of tears in his eyes. "He's _gone._ I don't think he's dead, but Delth can't find Parnileth, and I haven't seen Sh'let since this morning at the lake."

Arryn closed her eyes against the rush of maternal instinct. _Mav. I told you. I don't want to feel this. _

_ You cannot help it. He is mine and you are mine and I am yours, _said Maventh, already winging her way toward the chart-room.

Arryn sighed. "Let me see if I can find him." She knew what blue Parnileth felt like, and let down her guard, casting her mind out like a net….and there was emptiness. Not the emptiness of death…but something different…with a trace of terror lingering behind, like a trail. She shook herself free of the fear and looked grimly at the gathered riders. "I can't find him."

K'lin looked at P'ren. "You did well to come find us."

"Thank you, sir," the young rider said, bowing his head.

"All right," said Arryn sharply, commanding attention. "Pack up the charts. We've more important things than Fall now."

"Like what?" P'tar said, walking across the room from where he'd been writing on the sand-table.

Arryn stared at them all grimly, her eyes taking on a promise of vengeance that made them shudder. "Like finding a kidnapped weyrling."


	12. Chapter 12

**My sincerest apologies. Life has kept me busy and I was loathe to keep Arryn and Vell in limbo. But...ta-da! New chapter. New drama. Brighten up my exam week with some nice reviews? As always, enjoy.**

**Arwen**

"Calm down," said T'ran quietly, following his weyrmate to the other end of the chartroom. He wrapped his arms about her and said into her hair, "We'll find Sh'let, but we've a Fall to ride first. We need to keep planning, but we can spare two riders to go on a search."

"I'll go," Lira volunteered immediately, stepping toward the pair. H'rath put a hand on her shoulder.

"And I as well," he said.

"I'm sorry," Arryn said, sighing as she finally succeeded in separating herself from Maventh's roiling emotions. The green dragon launched herself from the fire-heights, too anxious to sit still. Arryn felt the wind in her wings…Maventh's wings. She shook her head—she knew they were probably one of the closest pairs at the Weyr, but short of seeing double vision she wasn't sure how much closer she was able to get to Maventh's consciousness before totally losing herself. With a great effort, she drew up a mental barrier, separating herself from Maventh…it was an almost physical pain, but it faded after a few moments. She could still feel Maventh, she just wasn't experiencing everything with her lifemate. It was too much to handle at once. If she was going to be able to lead her Weyr in a Fall, she needed to have her wits about her. "Sorry," she said again, shaking her head a little to clear it. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I agree. We will ride Fall. And we won't jump to conclusions about Sh'let, but I'd like to know his whereabouts before the Fall, if at all possible." To Lira and H'rath, she said, "I can spare one of you, but not both. I can find two others, if you prefer."

"No," said Lira firmly, her mouth thinning into a stubborn line that Arryn recognized as reminiscent of her own expression. "You need someone you trust, someone you know. It will calm Maventh, to know that Baerth is looking for her lost hatchling."

"They're far from hatchlings," murmured K'lin, a strange expression on his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Lira, putting her hands on her hips as she faced the bronze-rider, clearly not intimidated by either his striking good looks or his rank within the Weyr. Then again, thought Arryn, Lira was very seldom intimidated by anyone at all.

"Nothing in particular," demurred K'lin, a hint of a smirk in his eyes. Lira punched him in the arm. He laughed at her and the mood of the room lifted as Arryn smiled.

"No, actually, what I think that K'lin is trying to say," interjected V'remnar, the same odd expression passing over his features, "is that the queen is rising soon."

"What?" Lira said sharply. Her eyes went unfocused for a second. "Hm. You're right. Baerth says it's coming in waves."

"What's coming in waves?" Arryn asked.

"Do you honestly not feel it?" V'remnar asked. "Oy, T'ran, think it'll be tomorrow or tonight?"

"Well, I hope it's tomorrow, after the Fall," T'ran replied distractedly, poring over the charts. Then he froze, and looked up rather guiltily.

"You didn't tell me?" Arryn asked, jealousy flashing across her mind for just an instant. She took a step back. Shards, what was wrong with her? "I mean," she said in a softer tone, "I know that Finneseth will rise soon." She looked up at the other riders with a half-smile. "Definitely tomorrow, if not the day after. Hopefully the day after, so that it's not right after Fall."

K'lin closed his eyes for a minute. "By the First Egg," he said, half a groan in his voice, "the girl doesn't have any control. She'll drive the whole weyr mad before Fall if she can't get that queen of hers to settle down."

"It builds up anticipation," offered V'remnar with a glint in his eye, winking at K'lin.

"Don't you have that green-rider you're always yammering about?" Lira asked, punching V'remnar's arm.

"Well, yes, but she knows how it is." V'remnar put up a hand to defend himself. "Ow—woman, I need that arm to fly Fall tomorrow?" Lira grinned at him cheekily and then squealed as H'rath goosed her.

"Come on," H'rath said. "Time to call it a night. Say goodbye to the nice Weyrleaders."

"Goodbye," Lira parroted dutifully as H'rath picked her up and carried her out of the room.

"See what I mean?" said K'lin to T'ran. "We can't have everyone unfocused like that."

"I'll go talk to her," said Arryn with a note of finality in her voice. She turned at the door and eyed T'ran and K'lin. "Was I this bad?" she asked, half-knowing the answer.

"Not even close," said T'ran as K'lin collapsed onto a chair by the chart-table. "And by that I mean…yes."

Arryn grinned and strode out of the chart-room, her purposeful steps striding toward the Queen's Weyr. She reached the Queen's Weyr, the light of a glow-basket illuminating the passageway. After a brisk knock, she opened the door.

Vell looked up from rummaging through her supply of oils and cloths. Finneseth had been asking to be oiled all day, despite the fact that she was quite finished growing and only needed to be oiled once a week at most, and she'd been oiled the day before. Vell had a sneaking suspicion that Finneseth just wanted her hide to shine brighter for the bronzes, and told her dragon as much, only to receive a light tail-thump that nevertheless swept her off her feet. She tucked back a tendril of dark hair from her forehead and glanced at the door. "Yes?"

The Weyrwoman strode in, wearing an old oversized shirt and worn breeches tucked into her boots, her red-gold hair caught back in a hasty braid. She nodded as Vell stood hastily. "Good afternoon, Vell."

"Good afternoon, Weyrwoman," the young woman replied warily. Was the Weyrwoman here to chastise her about something she had done, something wrong of which she was unaware? Perhaps Amhira had said something to the Weyrwoman before her departure. Or perhaps she had not done a good job at flying sweep last Fall, and the Weyrwoman wished to discuss her failing with her before the Fall tomorrow.

You are no failure, Finneseth said firmly. You are the queenrider of Benden Weyr. Take pride in yourself.

I just feel as though the Weyrwoman doesn't approve of me, Vell replied with a hint of self-pity. No matter how hard she tried, her self-confidence wavered when confronted with the inscrutable Weyrwoman.

Arryn caught an edge of the pair's exchange—she meant to tune them out, but without talking to Maventh there was a blank space in her mind that their conversation filled, so she almost unwillingly listened, hiding her surprise at the dark-haired girl's obvious nervousness at her presence. She didn't really understand why the girl was so nervous around her, whether there was some reason she didn't know about, but the pair's exchange just seemed to be the musings of an insecure young rider—nothing that couldn't be solved by a little encouragement. And beneath the white-gold queen's words she felt the lust, her body clenching in response to the young queen's blatant sexuality. "Vell, may I have a word with you?"

"Of course, Weyrwoman," the young woman said, nearly tripping over herself to offer the older woman a seat at the table in the next room. From her couch, Finneseth fixed one whirling eye on the pair. Arryn smiled a little at the queen's protective air.

Arryn took a deep breath. "I'm going to speak frankly."

Vell cringed inwardly. She had the feeling this was not going to be a comfortable conversation.

"I think I haven't been quite fair to you and Finneseth," continued the Weyrwoman, her green eyes considering the pale, dark-haired rider sitting across from her.

Vell blinked. "I…what?"

Arryn nodded. "I think we've had a grand misunderstanding for a while now. And it's not your fault, it's mine." She felt Maventh pushing at the borders of her mind and ignored her for a moment, focusing on the task at hand. "You see…well, after Finneseth hatched, I realized that the one of Benden's bronzes would fly her someday." Shards, I haven't done my job, she thought when she saw the panic surface in the younger rider's eyes at the mention of her queen's rising. "And…truth be told, it made me nervous."

"Nervous? Why would …oh." Vell looked down, feeling a hot blush flaming in her cheeks. "I don't want Ereth to fly Finneseth. Not at all."

Arryn struggled to contain her own blush and couldn't help but chuckle. Vell looked up, startled and on the edge of tears, it seemed, at the Weyrwoman's flippant attitude toward something so very important. Arryn hastened to clarify. "No, no, Vell, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at myself. I've been a right wherry-headed idiot about the whole thing. You probably think I don't like you since I didn't train you."

"Yes," Vell agreed hesitantly. If they were getting everything out into the open, she figured she should be truthful.

"I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do it," Arryn admitted rather sheepishly. "I'm only a green-rider, you know."

Vell had to consciously stop herself from gaping openly. "Only a green-rider?" she repeated in disbelief. "Weyrwoman—"

"Arryn."

"Arryn…you brought this weyr back from the edge of disaster. Maventh did what no other green has ever done and you're her rider and that counts for something in my book."

Arryn blinked and looked at the queen-rider with new eyes, suddenly glad that Finneseth had chosen the raven-haired, pretty girl instead of the solid-looking Rija—who had Impressed a green, if she remembered correctly.

"I understand now," Vell continued with more composure, settling back into her chair and folding her hands in her lap. "And I promise you, I've never wanted Ereth to fly Finneseth. In all honesty, I'd rather she didn't rise at all. I know that's not possible, but…" She shrugged and trailed off.

"You're nervous," said Arryn.

"That's an understatement," corrected Vell with a self-deprecating smile.

"I apologize. I haven't done my duties in that respect."

"Oh no," said Vell hastily, "Amhira—Shirath's rider, from Southern—she explained the…the mechanics of it all to me…and it's not as though my mother didn't educate me before I left High Reaches. It's just that…" She pulled an expressive face. "Well. There's nothing for it, I suppose, other than saying it. I've never been with a man before. And I'm scared it won't be someone I love. Is that horrible?"

"No," Arryn said gently. "It's not. Trust me, it's not easy, knowing that you don't really have control. But…do you trust Finneseth?"

"With my life," replied Vell, a warm rush of love overwhelming her at the thought of her dragon. Finneseth crooned from her weyr, eliciting a smile from both riders.

"So…you just have to trust that the bronze who catches her will be the right one," finished Arryn reasonably. "It's harder than it sounds, I know, but when the time comes you certainly won't be thinking about much else."

"Really?" asked Vell in a small voice. "Marlin…rider of Ariath…well, she told me I should set my sights."

"And have you?" asked Arryn, a glint in her eye as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

Vell pursed her lips together in a small smile and then leaned forward across the table. She decided she liked the Weyrwoman immensely, now that the whole misunderstanding had been cleared up. "K'lin, rider of bronze Pertanth."

Arryn sat back. "I knew it."

"Does he…well, does he want Pertanth to fly Finneseth?" Vell asked breathlessly. Arryn only smiled and folded her arms across her chest.

"I would be using my position to my advantage if I took this conversation any further," she said.

Vell groaned. "He doesn't like me."

"That's not what I said."

"Well, you didn't say anything so what am I supposed to think?" demanded Vell.

Arryn laughed. "Fine. Yes. I suppose. I mean, it's not like I've had an open discussion with him about the matter, but the fact is, he's fair distracted right now. Apparently he can feel your queen's…um...feelings of anticipation, if you get my meaning."

"Oh. Oh." Vell glanced back at Finneseth, who took the opportunity to preen very obviously. "Is she really that…bad? I mean, I can feel her, but I couldn't tell that everyone else could."

"It's not everyone else," said Arryn reassuringly. "It's mostly just the bronzes, and a few of the more perceptive browns and blues."

"Still." Vell made a face. Did you hear that, love? I think you need to tone it down a bit.

Why should I? Finneseth responded. I want them to think about it. I want them to think about me.

The white-gold queen's last words came on a rush of sensuality so strong that it made Vell's head reel and she heard the Weyrwoman clear her throat.

Finneseth, she said firmly once her head stopped spinning. I need you to control yourself. There's a Fall tomorrow morning, and a lot of dragons might get hurt if they're distracted. Tone it down. I mean it.

Finneseth rumbled unhappily in her throat but Vell knew her logic had reached the restless queen when the haze of longing diminished.

Thank you, dearest. Don't worry. Your time will come soon enough, she said, hoping her dragon didn't detect her apprehension. If Finneseth did, she let it pass unnoticed.

"It would be best if she didn't rise until the day after the Fall. The bronzes will be tired, as she will be, tomorrow, so I don't think that will happen," reasoned Arryn.

Vell nodded. "Finneseth says it will probably be the day after tomorrow."

"Good. Now, there was something else I wanted to ask you. Have you seen Sh'let and Parnileth lately?"

"I saw them at the lake this morning, but other than that, I haven't seen them all day," replied Vell. "Why?"

"No matter." The Weyrwoman's smile was strained as she stood. "I don't want to be rude and cut our conversation short, but we've been rearranging the wings and I should get back to the chart-room."

Vell nodded. "Of course. I understand." When she went to grip forearms with the Weyrwoman she instead found herself in a hug.

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," said Arryn softly, releasing the younger rider.

Vell smiled. "I'm just glad that you like me."

Arryn laughed. "Don't worry. Everything will turn out fine," she reassured the young queen-rider. And with that she took her leave, heading back to the chart-room, thoroughly satisfied with her productive conversation. Perhaps now K'lin wouldn't be reduced to a slack-jawed idiot every few minutes, she thought in amusement. As she rounded a corner in the passageway she suddenly found herself on the ground, head ringing, with absolutely no idea of how she had gotten there.

"By the First Egg, I'm sorry, are you all right, Arryn?"

It was P'tar. Arryn groaned. "Why…Shards. Why did you run me over?" She rubbed her hip gingerly and then checked her head. No blood. Good. P'tar helped her up.

"I was just coming to get you. We tried to get Maventh to tell you, but she said you were blocking her out."

Arryn sensed the note of panic and urgency in P'tar's voice. "Why? What's happened?"

"We've found Parnileth and Sh'let," said P'tar.

"That's good!" exclaimed Arryn. "They're not lost—that's excellent, Lira will be back for Fall tomorrow—"

But P'tar was shaking his head and trying to say something through her joyful tirade. "No," he said two or three times. Then he took her arms. "Arryn, listen to me."

"What?" Arryn frowned.

P'tar let out a shaky breath. "There's…there's something wrong with them."

"They're hurt?" she asked concernedly.

"I suppose you could say that," he replied, uncharacteristically gently.

"What's wrong with them?" she demanded.

"We don't know how it happened," he said softly, still holding her arms.

"How what happened?" Her voice was rising.

"Sh'let and Parnileth…their connection…it's gone."

"What?" Arryn stared at him. "That's impossible. That doesn't happen. That's impossible, P'tar."

"No, it's not," P'tar said. "I've seen them…and…it's gone." He spoke the words very softly, with an utter sadness. "It's like both of them lost the other…but they're still here. We don't know how it happened."

Maventh. Arryn reached out blindly for her dragon and found herself embracing P'tar at the same time and she didn't care. All she wanted to know was that this was a horrible, horrible trick. Some cruel joke. Mav, tell me it's not true. Tell me it's not true, love.

Parnileth cannot speak to Sh'let, said Maventh grievingly. He can speak to me, but he is very confused. He is not the same.

"No," whispered Arryn. P'tar's arms tightened about her as she felt tears slide down her face. "When did you find them?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

She pulled away from the comforting embrace, swiping at her face angrily. There was an implacable fury budding in her breast. She could feel it and she welcomed it. "Bring me to them."

P'tar led her wordlessly to the infirmary. In the weyr-sized treatment room, blue Parnileth lay, curled around Sh'let, who seemed to be sleeping. His face was dirty, and scraped on one side. A bandage covered one arm. Arryn knelt by the young man and touched his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked at her. They gazed at each other wordlessly for a few moments. Then Sh'let said, "I can't feel him, Weyrwoman. He's here, but I can't…Parnileth…" The blue crooned and wrapped himself tighter about his distressed rider.

Arryn gripped Sh'let's shoulder. "If you need anything, Sh'let, you have only to ask."

"I want Parnileth back," whispered the blue-rider, gazing up at his dragon with infinite longing.

Arryn stepped back, and then turned to the healer, finding that it was Paela, an old acquaintance.

"He recognized you," Paela said softly. "That's a good sign."

"Who did this to them?" Her voice was hard with anger. "And how did they do it?"

"We don't know," said P'tar. "We don't know."

"Well, find out," gritted out Arryn, "because when I find them, I'm probably going to kill them."


	13. Chapter 13

**Well hello! I'm pleased to announce that after that infuriating hiatus, I am now back in civilization and able to give my muse full license again! Please forgive me for such a lapse in time between postings, real life sometimes prevents me from getting my paws on a keyboard. So, I hope you enjoy this deliciously long chapter, and if you're gracious enough to tell me what you think I'll be eternally grateful. Well, maybe not eternally...but at least until the next chapter. **

**Arwen**

"Weyrwoman," said Paela softly. "Arryn. I can't say for sure yet that anyone did this to them. In all honesty, it could be…a sickness…or a condition that couldn't have been prevented, that occurred…naturally."

"Naturally?" Arryn shook her head. "There's this…void. Between them. Nothing ever seperates a rider from his dragon, except death." She looked at Paela, her green eyes blazing. "There is nothing natural about this."

"It could still be a sickness," insisted the healer. "Just because I haven't encountered this before doesn't mean it hasn't happened before. Just because we don't know how it was caused doesn't mean that someone caused it."

P'tar put his hand on Arryn's elbow. "Maybe we should get back to the chart-room."

Arryn closed her eyes and tried very hard to control the maelstrom of emotions raging within her. She wanted to be with Maventh, she wanted to touch her lovely emerald dragon's hide so much that her chest ached.

I am here. I will always be here. Maventh's voice was strong in her head, as if the green dragon wanted to convince her rider, wipe all thoughts of separation from her mind.

I know, love, I know, Arryn replied as she wordlessly left P'tar and strode out onto the infirmary's ledge. A great gust of air swept her hair back and she found herself wrapped in an emerald cocoon, light filtering through the membrane of Maventh's wing like a paper-thin gem, bathing her in a soft green glow. For a moment she allowed herself to press her cheek against Maventh's side, feeling the dry warmth of her dragon's skin. Then Maventh's low rumble vibrated through her jaw, and the green dragon lifted her wing, releasing the Weyrwoman from her gem-hued repose. Arryn straightened.

Paela and P'tar stood side by side, with someone behind them. Arryn glimpsed raven-dark hair pulled back into a neat bun—but despite her pulled-together appearance, Vell was pale, much paler than she had been a short time ago when Arryn had visited her in the Queen's Weyr.

The healer walked over to Arryn, and Vell started to follow, but P'tar gently caught her elbow with a slight shake of his head. Her grey eyes were pensive as she watched Arryn take a step forward to meet Paela.

"You found something?" Arryn realized her question came out more like a statement.

"Yes." Paela nodded, chewing on her lip. She made a vague motion behind her. "It was Vell, actually. She said her queen was talking to Parnileth."

"And?"

Paela took a deep breath. "She said something about…a man. Parnileth remembered a man who hurt them."

"How? Did he do this to them?"

Paela held up a hand and waited for Arryn's demands to quiet. "Yes. And I found these odd puncture marks, on Sh'let's arm, and the queenrider relayed the fact that Parnileth thought he was bitten by something."

Arryn waited, controlling the questions buzzing in her mind like so many insects.

"After that, Parnileth doesn't remember anything, and Sh'let is so traumatized that he really doesn't remember anything useful to begin with, so I gave him some tea that will make him sleep."

"So, was this…a strange type of animal, that did this? If Parnileth says he was bitten…" Arryn chewed on her thumbnail as she paced the ledge, eyes thoughtful as she dissected the mystery.

Paela shook her head. "I looked at the punctures closer, and it looks like they're from an ampoule. An ampoule is a chamber crafted out of glass that holds some type of liquid, often medicine," she explained when Arryn gave her a blank look. "There's a needle on the end—a hollow piece of steel, very, very thin—that pierces the skin and injects the liquid directly into the blood." She shook her head. "They're very, very difficult to make. I would have to check with the Smiths' Guild to see if they even possess the knowledge to make new ones anymore."

"So…this man…he used one of these to do this to Sh'let and Parnileth?"

"Well, it's not a matter of the ampoule itself, it's a matter of what's in it," clarified Paela. "But yes, that's the best I can make of it, anyway."

Arryn sighed. "What do we do now?" She directed the question to the group at large, including P'tar and Vell in her glance.

"It's not contagious, like an illness, so we don't need a quarantine," said Paela firmly.

"Of course not," agreed Arryn quickly. Her eyes strayed to the weyr entrance. "Sh'let and Parnileth will need all the comfort we can give them."

"I…have an idea," said Vell, a bit timidly.

Arryn gave the young queenrider her full attention and nodded, motioning for her to continue.

"Well." Vell took a deep breath. "It's Finneseth's idea, really. Since Sh'let and Parnileth were alone when this happened, we think that maybe it would be best if no-one traveled by themselves—if every pair had another pair they traveled with, even during Fall. That way, no-one could be caught alone and unaware."

There was silence for a moment and Vell began to fear that the two older riders disapproved of her plan, until the Weyrwoman said softly, "That's a very good idea, Vell. I'll make sure the Weyrleader puts that into effect."

Vell felt herself blushing, her ears turning hot. "Thank you."

Arryn managed to smile at the young woman. Then she turned to P'tar. "How long do we have until Fall?"

He shaded his eyes with one hand and glanced at the sun, just descending from its zenith. "Two hours. Three at most."

Arryn nodded. "That's just enough time. We'll pair everyone off."

"Do you think we'll be able to handle being cut in half?" P'tar asked seriously. "If we're truly serious about keeping pairs together, they'll have to stay together for rests, and if one is hurt we lose two."

"I'd rather our strength be halved than have this happen to another pair," said Arryn firmly.

"But what I mean is…should we call another weyr? Ask them to help?"

Arryn's eyes flashed dangerously at the suggestion. "Benden has always taken care of herself. Even when she did not have a queen, she found a way."

"Yes, but—"

"We'll be fine," said Arryn firmly. "We should get back to the chart-room and then call the wings together. Let me know if anything else is found," she added to Paela. As P'tar began heading back in the direction of the chart-room, Arryn paused and then turned toward the younger woman. "Come on. You need to learn how to put together a wing sometime."

Vell blinked in surprise but then hurriedly followed the Weyrwoman, feeling slightly guilty about the smile wriggling on her lips. She felt Finneseth poke at her thoughts with no pretense of finesse, curious as to the cause of her rider's sudden surge of glee.

See, the golden dragon told her rider. I told you that Maventh's rider had no ill will toward you.

Yes, well, there was a misunderstanding, Vell replied as she followed Arryn into the cool darkness of the deep weyr passageways. We talked about it and now I know.

You are still learning, said Finneseth in what she obviously thought was a sage manner. Vell snorted, missing the quick look of bemusement that Arryn shot over her shoulder.

You were right this one time, Vell reminded her dragon teasingly. One good guess doesn't make you a psychic. She felt a sudden shift in the young queen's thoughts, provoked by her words, she supposed.

Instead of pairing off, we could keep track of everyone, Finneseth said, clearly pleased with the improvement to her original plan. Vell got the sense that she was sweeping her tail back and forth very fast in the midst of her excitement.

Mind that you don't break anything, dearest, she said mildly. Then she paused and considered the suggestion. You mean, just us?

Us…and Maventh, too, Finneseth added, a bit begrudgingly. Vell didn't miss the sheen of lust coloring her dragon's voice, and the sudden low flare of jealousy at the mention of the great green dragon. We could keep track of all the dragons and riders and report to Ereth or Pertanth's rider if something goes amiss.

I suppose that could work. Let me talk to the Weyrwoman about it. Out loud, Vell said, "Arryn, Finneseth just suggested an improvement to our original plan."

"Yes?" The Weyrwoman continued walking. "We're almost to the chart-room." Glow-baskets lit the path.

"We could keep track of everyone."

"We?"

"Meaning, Finneseth and me, and you and Maventh."

"Interesting," murmured Arryn. "The question is, would we be able to be accurate?"

"Of course," Vell answered immediately. When Arryn turned to her questioningly, the words tumbled out of her mouth before she had time to think about them. "Finneseth is Benden's queen, and the dragons of Benden will listen to her."

There was a moment of silence as the two women gazed at each other—Arryn with a measuring eye, and Vell with slight trepidation as she realized the import of her words. Then Vell straightened her shoulders and raised her chin just the slightest—she should have no shame for speaking the truth. After another moment, the Weyrwoman nodded slowly. Then she turned and resumed her brisk pace down the passageway.

"You have a good head for strategy and placement."

The words floated back over the Weyrwoman's head like a breeze and settled in Vell's ears. Though the shadows hid it, the younger woman grinned like she had just Impressed all over again.

As they entered the chart-room, T'ran looked up, and both Lira and H'rath had returned. T'ran strode over to Arryn. "We need to start pre-flights now."

Instead of being taken by surprise, as the Weyrleader had clearly expected her to be, Arryn nodded. "Yes. I agree. We need to outline a contingency plan to ensure that no other pairs are…injured…as Sh'let and Parnileth were…are."

H'rath, Lira, T'ran and P'tar gathered around the table, their faces grim—their dragons had all picked up on the terrible tragedy affecting the young pair. V'remnar rummaged around for something to eat as he made his way over. K'lin emerged from behind a stack of books and tried to hide his surprise at Vell's sudden appearance, nearly succeeding. He cleared his throat and brushed the dust from his tunic as he joined them at the table. T'ran directed a questioning look at Arryn.

"It's young Vell's plan, actually," clarified the Weyrwoman as she pulled up a stool and placed her elbows on the table, looking at Vell.

Vell colored, with all their eyes on her. Then she took a deep breath. Time to start acting like a Weyrwoman, she decided. "Finneseth and I were thinking about the problem, and we thought that Maventh and Finneseth could keep track of all the dragons during flight, alerting the Weyrleader—" she gave T'ran a little nod—"if something went amiss."

"It's a clever plan," said K'lin finally. He gave Vell a small smile. Shards, he had forgotten how beautiful she was—she met his gaze for an instant, her grey eyes inscrutable and jolting him with an almost physical electricity. V'remnar nudged him under the table. K'lin tore his eyes away from the young gold-rider and raised his eyebrows innocently. V'remnar rolled his eyes in response.

Ereth's rider told me to tell you to stop staring, Pertanth said with a hint of amusement. Are you looking at Finneseth's rider?

Yes, replied K'lin in the mental equivalent of a mutter. He sensed his dragon rumble.

Finneseth will rise soon, the bronze said.

Do you…like her? K'lin asked, though he'd had this conversation with his dragon before. It was just that he wanted to make sure.

She is a fine queen, replied Pertanth appreciatively. The bronze dragon paused. Do you want her rider for your mate?

Leave it to you to put it in bold terms, K'lin said with a hint of irritation. He tried to pay attention to the conversation—something about rearranging the wings—and failed, so he continued the much more interesting banter with his dragon. When you put it that way, though…I suppose I do. He allowed himself a glance at Vell. She was biting her lip in concentration, brows drawn together slightly as she surveyed the map T'ran was passing around the table. As K'lin watched, she passed the map to Lira, looked up at him, and then looked away quickly, a blush staining her cheeks almost instantly. She twisted her hands together on the table and suppressed a shiver.

A sudden wave of lust surged into the room, swamping K'lin. He couldn't tell whether it was his own or Pertanth's or the young queen's—Vell, too, drew in her breath sharply and her lip turned white from the pressure of her teeth. He clenched his jaw against it. Pertanth, if that's you, stop it, he said firmly.

It is Finneseth, replied Pertanth dazedly.

"Vell," he heard Arryn say with a bit of a bite in her voice.

"Sorry," gasped Vell, and then, half out loud, "Finneseth, don't."

"She's not—?" H'rath shot a sharp look at the suddenly strained faces of the riders around the table. His eyes went unfocused as he bespoke Plenneth.

Arryn shook her head. "No. Not now. She's just…anticipating." She cut her eyes at K'lin. Maventh, dearest, please tell Pertanth to calm down, his rider as well. The pair of them need to stop thinking about…whatever they're thinking about. It's exciting Finneseth.

Queens, muttered Maventh in the back of her mind as she bespoke the bronze who had once vied for her in flight. Arryn had to hide a smile at that. She watched K'lin carefully and though he hid it well he colored as Pertanth relayed the information.

Vell took a deep breath and decided that she was not going to look at that bronze-rider again. She'd forgotten how very blue his eyes were, and how—mesmerizing—and how the shadows found planes on his handsome face…He looked a little less intimidatingly perfect when he was flustered. Perhaps embarrassed. She couldn't tell, and tilted her head to better analyze his expression, but then reminded herself sharply. No more ogling. It wasn't good for her state of mind and it certainly wasn't helping Finneseth's fidgety edginess. By now, a sheen of lust coated the young white-gold queen's thoughts, making it very difficult to focus on conversation in the chart-room. Behave, she told her dragon in the firmest mental voice she had ever used. The desperate ache in her body receded just enough for her to actually use her mind for other purposes.

"All right. I think that about settles it. Are we all clear on our positions?" The Weyrleader stood up, placing his hands on either side of the sand-tablet. He put down the stylus and Vell craned her neck a little, glimpsing a myriad of different symbols that she supposed he explained. There was a circle that she took to be the Weyrbowl, and two circled letters at the edge of it: "M" and "F." That puzzled her for an instant until she realized: Maventh and Finneseth. They would be stationed at the edge of the Weyrbowl to monitor everything. All the dragons coming in, going out, fighting Thread. It was slightly daunting but Vell thought of Finneseth and a surge of confidence warmed her chest. They would be able to do it, no doubt.

"If no-one has any questions, I suggest we gather the weyr," said T'ran with a note of finality in his tone. As if on cue, all the riders—except Vell—stood, and she hastily pushed back her chair from the table, joining them as they exited the chart-room. She was so focused on the task ahead that the time it took to prepare for Fall seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and suddenly she was up on Finneseth's neck, legs securely in the straps, pulling her goggles down over her eyes. They were to carry a flame-thrower just in case, and she arranged the unwieldy device as best she could. Finneseth launched from the ledge and glided gracefully into a banked turn, settling just a moment later on the edge of the Weyrbowl. The white-gold queen graciously returned each dragon's greeting as they passed, paying particular courtesy to the bronzes. It was no surprise but it served as a constant reminder of the event that was very, very, uncomfortably close. Pertanth passed and bugled, and K'lin gave Vell a teasing salute. Finneseth returned his call. Vell knew she was bright red under all the riding gear.

Even though Finneseth's rising spawned a small flock of butterflies in Vell's stomach, it also served, again, to make time go faster. It was as if someone had decided to ratchet up the speed of her life. The Fall passed rather quickly, for the amount of mental work she was doing. Although, she was really only listening in on Finneseth as the queen kept track of her assigned wings—Maventh and Arryn had taken a little more than half, adding the extra wing to their side, but Vell decided not to contest the Weyrwoman's decision. Thankfully, no pair fell off the map, so to speak, and so it was with a somewhat less heavy heart that Vell returned to her weyr after the Fall. No-one had been very seriously hurt, either, which meant that Paela could concentrate on Sh'let and Parnileth. She still shuddered when she thought of the gaping emptiness that leered at her from where their connection should have been. She'd never realized it before, but each pair's telepathic connection had a sort of tangibility that she could feel, if she went through Finneseth. It was like thin threads running between dragon and rider in a fine, spider-like web. When she really concentrated, it was beautiful in its complexity.

She kept herself carefully busy, taking her clothes off with more precision than necessary, as if she was afraid to remove them—she jumped into a comfortably oversized shirt and loose trousers. Rummaging around for a brush in her drawer—she would need one of the really fine-bristled ones, to get the dust out of her riding vest's leather. And a cloth. Maybe oil, too…she narrowed her eyes in concentration, focusing so totally on her menial task that she didn't really notice Finneseth's gentle mental prods. Then she turned and found that Finneseth had slid her head and neck into her living-space. Her dragon regarded her with gently whirling eyes. You are afraid.

Vell paused and then set the brush and cloth down. She walked over and sat down, draping her arms over Finneseth's neck. Yes.

You do not need to be afraid. There was a concern in Finneseth's words that twisted Vell's heard in an odd way.

Don't worry about me, dearest, she hastened to reassure the young queen, stroking one eye-ridge. Finneseth rumbled in pleasure—it would have been a purr, had she been smaller. I'll be fine. I promise.

You favor Pertanth's rider. Finneseth turned her head and fixed Vell with one eye.

Vell grinned a little and twisted her hands together. "I suppose," she muttered.

Then I will try to have Pertanth catch me, Finneseth said with a decisive air. I cannot promise anything, but I will try.

Vell pressed herself against her dragon and Finneseth curled her neck around her rider, creating a warm hollow. I love you, Vell said, feeling her eyelids grow heavy.

Finneseth rumbled fondly. And I you, little one.

That's the first time you've called me that, Vell commented with a disjointed bemusement. She felt her eyes closed.

I am large, and you are small. You are my other half, my second heart. I will always protect you.

Finneseth's last words rang like a shield against the unspoken promise of the near future. Comforted, Vell drifted off to sleep in a white-gold nest, gem-hued eyes holding watch over her like a mother gazes on her child.


	14. Chapter 14

**So I apologize for the lack of update--real life has kept me unmercifully busy, but here is the next chapter! Hopefully you all will not hate me too much for it...(evil grin). Let's just say I was tired of being predictable. Oh, just to let everyone know, some of this chapter gets pretty intense, much like Maventh's mating flight in my other piece, so if you don't want a bit of that then feel free to skip it! :) Hope you enjoy it and tell me what you think!**

**Arwen**

Arryn paced the edge of her weyr, footsteps echoing with a quick tattoo. Every time she passed the arch that opened out into the ledge, she paused for a brief second, green eyes sweeping the horizon over the Weyrbowl. A few dragons winked in and out of the blue sky. There were riders from several other Weyrs, as far away as Southern, staying at Benden now, awaiting the rising of the young white-gold queen. Finneseth shone so brightly now that it was hard to look at her when she emerged from her weyr to preen in front of her admirers (of which she had many). Vell, too, seemed lit from within with a light that entranced the men of the Weyr, her pale skin glowing and her dark hair catching the sun in blue and purple brilliance. She was shier than her dragon, staying inside for the day after the Fall when she realized the riders' interest had heightened tenfold, but now she sat on her ledge and watched Finneseth turning loops in the sky, mesmerizing every male dragon in sight. Arryn paused and scanned the sky again: Finneseth was conspicuously absent this morning.

You are doing yourself no good pacing, Maventh said from her position sunning on the ledge, her emerald hide gleaming in the sun.

Arryn scowled in frustration. Why can't the two of them just get it over with already? I know it's their first time but honestly, the whole Weyr is so on edge I feel like it's about to go insane!

Maventh merely lifted a wing to fan herself, obviously deeming her rider's comments unworthy of a reply. After a few long moments, she said, Stop worrying. You know that I will tell you when it is time to leave.

Arryn gritted her teeth. She and Maventh had decided together that it they would leave when Finneseth rose, just to be safe. A shudder crawled up her spine as she remembered the drastic measures she'd to which she'd had to resort, when Linnara's failing queen Narenth had charged Maventh on the fireheights at Narenth's last, fatal rising. She remembered the icy fear that had torn through her at the prospect of losing her dragon, her lovely green, to the furious and blood-hungry queen. It hadn't been Narenth's fault, it was the blood-lust of rising—someone had told Arryn once that, in the early days of dragonkind, queens had often killed weaker dragons or even humans to satisfy the intense thirst for blood, if no prey had been readily available, when the riders hadn't yet learned the necessity of controlling their dragons during a mating flight. Arryn herself didn't know if the tale was true, but reminded herself that a queen would kill another queen who interrupted or interfered with a mating flight. The possibility gave her chills. An image of Sh'let and Parnileth appeared in her mind, aroused by her fear of losing Maventh. The young pair, still desolate, their link still severed, slept most days, nearly all the time, curled tightly around one another in a weyr specially chosen for its proximity to the healers' quarters—and the fact that it was reasonably far away from all the other fighting dragons' weyrs. While the dragons seemed much more adept at handling the disturbing emotional impact of the severed pair, it still distressed them enough that T'ran had deemed it a dangerous distraction. The Weyrleader had conferred with the healers as well as the older riders in the Weyr (J'ran, the Weyrlingmaster, being one of them), and he had decided it best for only those who had known Sh'let and Parnileth personally to be able to see them. They had still made no progress on the cause of the severance.

Stop worrying, Maventh repeated patiently. I will tell you when the time comes.

I know, Arryn replied with a hint of irritation. That doesn't stop me from being nervous. Everyone's on tenterhooks. K'lin can't even walk straight, he's so dizzy with Pertanth's anticipation. Even Lira says she can feel it a little, and Baerth's a blue!

It is Finneseth's first rising. It is something to be anticipated, Maventh said reasonably, fanning herself again with one wing.

Arryn sat on the edge of the bed, tapping her fingers on her knee. The next Fall wasn't due for a while, but the whole Weyrs' nerves would be frayed to shreds if this continued much longer. You said that Finneseth thought it would be a day or two after Fall. It's been three. And a half.

Finneseth is young. Remember our first mating flight.

Our only mating flight, Arryn pointed out. She walked out onto the ledge and looked at her sprawled emerald dragon suspiciously. Why haven't you risen again, if I may ask?

You may always ask. Maventh considered. I do not know. I just have not.

Greens usually rise much more often than queens, Arryn reasoned, pressing her lips together as she thought. But we can't really put you in either category, after all.

I am a green, Maventh said defensively, raising her head to Arryn's eye-level. Just one who can do what others cannot.

Arryn's curiousity melted away at the sight of Maventh's whirling eyes as her dragon looked at her plaintively, as if needing confirmation that she was, in fact, a green, not some strange, unquantifiable creature separate from all her brethren. Arryn threw her arms around the green's neck and pressed her cheek into the sun-warmed emerald hide. You are mine and I am yours, she said firmly. Nothing will ever change that, love.

Yes. I know. Maventh crooned deep in her throat. Then she gently disentangled herself from her rider's grasp and stretched, spreading her wings a bit to keep her balance on the ledge. Swinging her great wedge-shaped head toward some sound that Arryn could not hear, she said without preamble, It is time to go.

Now? Arryn put her hands on her hips. I asked you barely fifteen minutes ago and you told me to be patient?

Maventh rumbled in amusement at her rider's irritation. Fifteen minutes ago, Finneseth was not ready to rise. She is now.

Arryn shook her head and fetched her bag from inside her weyr. T'ran would know where she'd gone—they'd discussed it. Her stomach twisted. She wouldn't want to see Ereth flying after Finneseth anyway. No matter how many times her weyrmate had attempted to reassure her that even if Ereth did get a little excited and joined the flight, he wouldn't win. She was not naïve enough to think that the great bronze would restrain himself in the heat of the moment, the lust of the mating flight coursing through his wings.

She strapped the riding gear onto Maventh quickly, taking the time to double-check the straps, trusting that her dragon had given them enough time to make the necessary preperations before the actual event was underway.

You are leaving.

Baerth broke through the barrier she had erected about her mind. She didn't talk to the dragons much, these days, preferring to let Finneseth grow into her role as queen of the weyr.

Yes, she replied, feeling the tension in the blue's voice. Mating flights were dangerous things, even now, and the blues and greens often got nervous.

Are you going to Ruatha? Baerth asked after a moment.

Arryn was sure the question had come from Lira. Yes. Tell Lira to look after Vell. Help her, if she needs it. Remind her that she needs to restrain Finneseth. She swung onto Maventh's neck, tightening the straps and situating her pack on her shoulders.

I will tell Lira. She will not let anything happen. I will not let anything happen, vowed the big blue. Kelath will help me. He will keep his head. Plenneth, too.

Thank you, Baerth. And tell Lira not to worry. I'll be back when it's done. With that, Arryn tightened her grip on the riding straps and took a deep breath. Maventh launched off the ledge, spread her wings and before her mighty wings beat three strokes, they slid between to Ruatha.

Vell sat cross-legged in the weyr. Her nerves were vibrating. She could feel every inch of her skin thrill with an invisible electricity, humming in anticipation. There was fear, somewhere in the back of her mind—there were so many riders she didn't know, riders from Fort and Ista and Southern, and even the ones from Benden—she knew most, yes, but that didn't mean she liked them, or wanted to bed them, which was what was about to happen. Marlin and Rija, at her request, had consented to stay with her until the actual event, and even then, she still desperately wanted them to be at her side, to make sure she didn't do anything unbearably stupid. Marlin's green beauty Ariath had risen nearly two weeks prior, with brown-rider P'tar's Grath catching her (though arrogant J'tor's Rieneth had come very close). Marlin assured Vell that it was wonderful, and there was no shame in being a little nervous.

"Aren't you afraid that Grath will go after Finneseth?" Vell asked Marlin, who was sprawled on the sleeping platform, idly weaving ribbons together. Marlin sat up a little at the question.

"Honestly?" She considered. "I know how it goes, Vell. Finneseth's a queen. It doesn't mean I'm happy about it, but sometimes this is what it takes to be a good rider. You have to realize that some things are just out of your control."

Vell sighed. "There's so many riders here."

Marlin perked up even more, a glimmer in her eyes. "Yes, I know! Did you see that rider from High Reaches, the one with the reddish bronze dragon? N'ral, I think his name is. Absolutely gorgeous." She smiled mischieviously. "If P'tar wasn't so overprotective, I would definitely not have a problem with seeing his riding gear."

"Marlin!" Vell couldn't help but laugh. Rija, too, chuckled from where she was oiling her riding gear, the innuendo unmistakable. Then Vell paused for a moment. Something about that name—N'ral—seemed strangely familiar, but then Marlin latched onto their laughter, feeding the fire with more hilariously bawdy descriptions of the riders who had come to try their luck at Benden. Vell reached out to check on Finneseth, who was sleeping on the ledge. She bit her lip at the swath of lust enveloping her beautiful dragon, even in sleep. The nearest ledges were packed with browns and bronzes, their whirling eyes fixed on the young queen. Then, suddenly, her thoughts were on fire—there was a surge of anticipation—and then Finneseth awoke, and the whole Weyr seemed to awake with her, transcending into another plane of thought and sensation as the young queen snarled at the rapt bronzes, spreading her wings and rocketing toward the feeding grounds.

"Thirsty," gasped Vell, her hands going to her own throat, her eyes glazed. Rija and Marlin glanced quickly at one another and took Vell's arms, leading her out onto the ledge. There were the bronze-riders, propelled along by helpful blue- and green-riders. It was a good thing the ledge of the Queen's Weyr was so large—there were so many riders, standing with dazed looks, knowing only that the center of their attention, their very purpose for existence at this moment, was the dark-haired girl at the center of their circle, and the young queen diving after a beast on the hunting grounds, blazing in the morning light.

Lira deposited a stunned K'lin near the center of the ring, and went to stand by Vell, joining the other two female riders standing with her. They wouldn't be able to stay with her long—the lust eminating from the whole group was enough to make one dizzy. But Lira, determined to help Maventh's young queen succeed, grabbed Vell's arm and said into her ear, "Don't let her gorge! Only the blood! Only the blood!"

Finneseth shrieked as Vell tried to make her listen. She tore at the entrails of her first kill, screeching in defiance as her rider forced her to go for the throat, for the blood, not the enticing, steaming meat of the animal. The white-gold queen latched onto the throat and sucked her kill dry, launching into the air and arrowing down onto another herd-beast before Vell had time to catch her breath.

"She's so—angry—" Vell choked out, her far-away eyes narrowed with concentration, sweat beading her brow as she bent her dragon to her will. It felt wrong, forcing Finneseth like this, but she knew that if her queen did as she pleased, the flight would be slow and short. They needed a fast, strong flight, to weed out the weak—no half-grown dragonling would catch her.

Two more kills, two more desperate battles of will between the queen-rider and her dragon. The bronzes were bugling now, their eyes whirling bright, their riders panting, the ledge a maelstrom of need and longing.

"Time to go," Lira said to Marlin and Rija. Marlin disentangled herself from one of the riders, who had reached blindly for her, and followed the two other women out of the circle. They heard Vell give a little cry, but it was one of longing, not despair. She no longer needed them. She knew what had to be done.

One more kill. Only one more. Even blood would make a queen slow if she drank too much. Finneseth's thirst was almost sated—and now her lust flared, plunging Vell into a fiery storm of desperation and defiance. They would fly far and fast, they would make their would-be lovers' hearts burst with the flight and the unfulfilled lust. Finneseth's scream of fury echoed through the Weyr, reaching down into the kitchens, where the drudges fell upon one another with glazed eyes. On the ledge, a breath hung suspended as the riders strained toward their dragons, every muscle taut for the moment the chase began.

Finneseth rocketed into the sky, a streak of silver against the azure expanse. Her great wings beat the air at a furious pace. The bugles and bellows of dozens of dragons echoed in her wake as the dragons launched themselves after her. There were browns and bronzes and a few blues, all straining after her. She shrieked at them in derision and arrowed down toward the earth. They followed, and a few cries of despair rose from the riders on the ledge as their lust-blinded dragons failed to pull out of the dive in time, gauging great furrows into the earth. Finneseth goaded them with taunting cries, deriding them. They were too slow, they were too stupid. They would never catch her!

Vell felt the circle tightening around her. There were maybe two dozen dragons left in the chase. Their riders reached out to her, laying their hands on her, stroking her hair, touching the skin of her neck, her lips, her hands. Need bound them all together. She shuddered and bared her teeth as Finneseth lashed her tail at one of the browns, speeding out of his reach. There was the red-bronze dragon—the one from High Reaches—he was large, and fast, and his hide was the color of copper and blood. Finneseth teased him with one wingtip. Somehow, Vell found N'ral, sliding her hand up his shirt, feeling the muscles beneath his skin, winding her fingers in his hair, arching back as he kissed the line of her jaw, the tender skin beneath her collarbone. Then the queen whirled away from the High Reaches bronze, slicing upward, through the clouds, and the hands of all the riders reclaimed Vell, all anticipating, all sighing together in need.

Small groans of despair eminated from riders as their dragons tired, despite their urging, and gave up the chase. The knot of riders on the ledge, with Vell at its core, dwindled slowly but surely. Finneseth exulted in each failure, in each broken spirit. She would teach them what it meant to catch a queen! There was Rieneth, her clutch-mate, laboring to keep up. She called to him teasingly, and he struggled to respond, pumping his wings desperately. J'tor reached for Vell and she spun out of his reach, into the arms of a bronze-rider from Southern, a handsome man, older than her but not too old—his bronze bugled with fresh hope as his rider kissed Vell fiercely, crushing her against his body with one strong brown arm.

Pertanth called to the white-gold queen, reminding her that he had seen her grow, he had played with her when she was just a hatchling—he was no mere suitor, he was a friend who had protected her. Finneseth paused, pirouetting closer to the big bronze. K'lin took Vell's hand and drew her closer to him, running one hand through her long dark hair before kissing her, the raw edge of his lust tempered by an odd tenderness, his calloused hands gentle as he pressed her closer, closer. Vell's knees were shaking. She felt close to collapse, but in her mind she encouraged Finneseth—no matter if she was tired, her magnificent queen still flew through the sky faster than an arrow from a bow, faster than Thread itself.

The last brown dropped from the flight, his rider sighing in resignation. Six bronzes left: Rieneth, Pertanth, the High Reaches bronze, the Southern bronze, another Benden bronze and, finally, the Weyrleader's bronze Ereth. Blinded by her dragon's need, Vell exulted over the fine lines of the riders' bodies, running her hands over their skin, teasing them, putting her lips upon them here and there, eliciting groans of pleasure and need. Finneseth's scream was turning to frustration—was there no bronze who would catch her, who would take her for his own? The flight was long, the flight was fast, now it was up to them, for she had done her part! She accelerated in anger, diving and turning in an intricate pattern, the bronzes trailing after, vying neck and neck, great bodies straining toward their prize, their reward. Great Ereth slowed and dropped. The miniscule part of Vell that still retained reason felt relief. Another bronze peeled off from the pursuit: the Southern bronze. Finneseth bugled to her remaining pursuers, now encouraging them, telling them that if they could only be the last, she would be theirs!

Now three remained: N'ral's bronze, Pertanth, and young Rieneth. Rieneth was tiring, Finneseth could tell. She whirled in front of him coquetteishly and in one last-ditch effort he lunged for her, missing and crying out in despair as the white-gold queen sailed easily out of his reach. Now only two. The other riders were watching now, some sitting, exhausted from their dragons' efforts. The Benden bronzes bugled encouragement to Pertanth, the dragons from other weyrs called out to N'ral's bronze, urging him not to give up.

Vell trembled, her legs shaking, but she was in no real danger of falling, for N'ral and K'lin pressed against her from either side, breathing heavily as they urged their dragons onward, upward, toward the white-gold queen. N'ral kissed her lips, K'lin the back of her neck, making it even more difficult for her to stand. She was with Finneseth, her wings finally beginning to tire, her suitors finally whittled down to the worthy. The three dragons streaked across the sky, gaining height. Vell clutched N'ral's tunic and leaned back into K'lin, gasping at the lust crashing over her. It was unbearable—her knuckles whitened. Elianth, the High Reaches bronze, called enticingly to Finneseth. Pertanth, too, bugled. The two bronze's voices warred in the young queen's head. She dove beneath them, circled above them, inspecting them. Elianth was younger, perhaps faster, leaner and more muscled, but Pertanth was experienced, his endurance tested—he was no fickle young thing, and he was a Benden bronze, though such a thing mattered little to her now. She decided to let them sort it out themselves, and whirled, and kept flying.

N'ral kissed Vell and as she drew back her breath caught, her eyes focusing for an instant in recognition. "Nimoral?" she whispered unbelievingly.

"N'ral now," he replied, his voice rough with desire, his large hands running over her stomach, her hips. He broke their kiss for an instant and with an effort he grinned crookedly, his words minced by floods of lust. "Fancy—seeing you—here, little Rose."

The nickname jolted her back to High Reaches, to her brothers' older friends, who had only half-jokingly nicknamed her Rose, "for her beauty and her thorns," they had teased her. She remembered Nimoral especially, one of her brother's close friends, four Turns her senior. What she hadn't remembered was him Impressing bronze—but she hadn't paid much attention to Impressions until she herself had been Searched.

"Your brother—will kill me," N'ral panted before kissing her again. She was dizzy with the feel of his lips.

Pertanth was tiring. Finneseth noted this with satisfaction, and K'lin gritted his teeth.

"Finneseth—will kill something—if someone doesn't catch her—soon," retorted Vell, her sentence punctuated by gasps at N'ral's kisses. In the back of her mind she felt K'lin's despair, but Finneseth was bugling to Elianth and Pertanth crooned to her almost despairingly, begging her to choose him. The white-gold queen scoffed at Pertanth's request. The bronze slowed, and Elianth accelerated. K'lin dropped to his knees as N'ral, the stranger that Vell had suddenly recognized, swept the young queen-rider into his arms, carrying her back into their weyr as their dragons twined in ecstasy.

N'ral carried her unerringly toward the sleeping platform. She was already pulling his shirt over his head—Shards, but he was beautiful in the half-light, skin gleaming tawny against her alabaster hands. He laid her down and kissed her passionately, moaning into her mouth as her hands found the most eager part of him. Then, suddenly, he paused, straightening his arms, wading through the dragon-lust, listening to something she couldn't hear.

"Elianth says that Finneseth orders me not to hurt you," he murmured into her ear, a little amused. She shivered at the feel of his breath on her skin and couldn't do anything more than look up at him, her grey eyes wide. He kissed the side of her neck gently. She closed her eyes. "I would never hurt you, Rose," he whispered, and she smiled, pulling him down into a fierce kiss that effectively erased all other thoughts from his mind.


	15. Chapter 15

**Again, my profound apologies for keeping you waiting. Arryn needed to get out for a bit so this chapter is about her. She's a bit like an old friend to me so it was nice to revisit her character with more depth. As always, reviews absolutely make my day! Enjoy!**

**Arwen**

The Lord Holder of Ruatha, Yenar by name, surveyed his table thoughtfully, eyes resting upon his guest, who also happened to be his niece, the green-rider Weyrwoman of Benden. Arryn still wore her leather riding vest, with the intricate knots of gold and green glimmering on her shoulders, the colors of Benden interwoven to form a device upon her chest. His niece had visited as often as her duties would allow, delighting in her young cousins, who were now nigh on seven Turns old and utterly unintimidated by the rider or her dragon. Yet now Arryn sat tensely, her hands clenched in her lap as the noon meal was served. Maryl caught her husband's eye from the other end of the table, motioning with her head that it was a woman's matter and she would discuss it with the younger woman later. Yenar nodded slightly and turned his attention to his son. Young Kadal concentrated on remembering his history lesson that day, so that he could tell the story of Pern's discovery and population. After going through the known portions of the crash-landing and the following years, he turned to his cousin, green eyes bright with excitement.

"Did you know, Cousin Arryn, that dragons were created by a scientist?" he asked.

Arryn came out of her reverie enough to smile at the dark-haired child. He and his sister reminded her so much of herself sometimes. She faked ignorance. "No, Kadal, please tell me!"

"When Thread came and they saw how dangerous it was, there was a lady who decided to make dragons to protect us all," Kadal continued seriously. He frowned and poked his sister. "What was the lady's name?"

Taelin gave her older cousin a long-suffering look, comical on her cherubic features, before informing her brother of the correct answer. "Kitty Ping."

"Kitty Ping!" Kadal gestured with his cup of klah, threatening to spill over over himself. "She made dragons!"

"And lucky for us she did," said Arryn with a smile. She shifted in her seat. What was the scene back at Benden? Was the flight over? She could have just reached out to Baerth or Kelath, but she didn't want to validate her suspicions. Her stomach tightened. Ereth was a fine, strong bronze. He stood as good a chance as any at winning Finneseth. T'ran was a good Weyrleader, better than most, and he would only improve in time. Arryn felt horrible, wishing that Ereth would lose, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't resign herself to losing T'ran; she wasn't Weyrbred, after all, and despite the fact that it had been almost five Turns since her induction into the world of the dragon-riders, she found acceptance of this custom in particular difficult.

You must try to stop worrying, said Maventh, gliding over the lake with easy strokes of her wings. The lake glimmered like a brilliant jewel under the rays of the bright sun, its waters reflecting the light into a thousand bright colors.

I think I'm allowed to worry a little about this, Arryn replied in irritation, picking at the napkin on her lap. She knew she was being rude by not eating her food, but it was as if she had swallowed an entire sack of firestone. Her stomach was not exactly in a cooperative mood.

_No_. Maventh's voice held an unusual edge. _It is not good for you._

Arryn sighed a little and rubbed her temples. Since when did you turn into a mother wherry? She glanced up at her uncle, who was regarding her with a rather concerned gaze. "I just have a bit of a headache," she explained. "And Maventh isn't really helping things," she added, almost as an afterthought, and mostly to herself. Then, suddenly, a bronze fire-lizard popped into existence right above the table, causing one of the serving-maids to shriek and drop her platter with a resounding crash.

Hint chattered animatedly at Arryn, flittering his wings in annoyance when she frowned at him, uncomprehending. She felt the little bronze poking at her mind, and with a cold feeling of resignation she let down her shields enough to let him show her an image. The mental picture he thrust at her was distorted, as always, by his vantage point: the dragons were enormous, the image bent and blurred a little from his excitement. Without pausing to let her look at the image, Hint started flashing other pictures into her head, shrieking and chirruping all the while. Finally she stood up and caught T'ran's fire-lizard, gently holding his wings. He trembled with excitement in her hands. She looked into his whirling eyes. Slowly, Hint. Slowly. What happened? A bud of hope had blossomed within her at the brief sight of the first image, but she didn't dare let that hope grow until the little bronze confirmed what she thought she'd seen.

Hint stretched out his neck in concentration, his wedge-shaped head, a delicate replica of his older kin's, nearly touching Arryn's nose. She focused on his whirling eyes, and got the picture of a white-gold queen—Finneseth—in flight, chased by three bronzes. Concentrating harder, she was able to pick out the two bronzes she knew: Rieneth and Pertanth, along with a third she didn't. Her stomach twisted as she drew in a deep breath, combating her dizzying sense of relief. "Next, please," she said. Hint obligingly changed the picture. Now it was down to two: Pertanth and the other bronze, clearly younger than Pertanth but still well old enough to be a top contender for Finneseth. Arryn thought back to the bronze-riders from the other weyrs that had petitioned her for inclusion in the flight. It was more of a courtesey than a rule: a bronze dragon wouldn't be kept from the sky when a queen flew if he wanted to participate, but it was considered polite for the foreign riders to present themselves to the senior Weyrwoman.

Ah. She remembered. Bronze Elianth, with his rider N'ral. N'ral had been a head-turner—she remembered thinking that if he wasn't successful in the mating flight, there would be other women who would gladly satiate his dragon-driven lust. It happened a lot, with rejected riders. They needed release, and most of the time a woman, whether she was rider or healer or kitchen drudge, took pity on them. In N'ral's case, it wouldn't have been pity, exactly, Arryn thought, remembering the man's striking good looks. She wondered how the riders of Benden would react to having a Weyrleader from High Reaches.

_The flight is over,_ she told Maventh. _Ereth didn't….win._

I know, Maventh replied, unruffled. Elianth of High Reaches flew faster and farther. The green dragon paused. It does not matter into what weyr his rider was born. He is a Benden rider now. His dragon was fastest, his dragon flew farthest. Elianth is a Benden dragon now.

Well put, Mav, Arryn said. Her dragon's sensible viewpoints on potentially volatile situations never failed to calm her. She blinked and realized that her aunt, uncle and cousins (not to mention the maids) were all looking at her with varying expressions of curiosity. Kadal stared at the fire-lizard, enraptured by the little bronze. Arryn released Hint and suggested that he go meet Kadal. The little bronze obeyed enthusiastically, drawing a delighted shriek from the boy as the lizard landed on his shoulder. Arryn made sure Hint knew how important it was to be gentle, especially with his claws, and then turned her attention to her aunt and uncle.

"It's over," she said, hearing the relief in her own voice. "N'ral, from High Reaches, is the new Weyrleader of Benden."

Maryl smiled sympathetically, seeming to share her niece's feelings of relief. Yenar, however, frowned.

"Aren't you still senior Weyrwoman, Arryn? I'm not weyrfolk, but I thought that's how these things worked. Once a Weyrwoman, always a Weyrwoman."

Arryn blinked at this unexpected question. She looked at her uncle and said guilelessly, "Maventh's a green. We were just a kind of substitute until Finneseth was old enough." She paused. "At least, that's what I thought." This new revelation set off another maelstrom of feeling inside her. Then she smiled and shrugged, resolving not to borrow trouble. "We'd be happy just to be another fighting pair again."

Yenar nodded thoughtfully and let the subject drop, much to Arryn's relief. Kadal and Taelin barraged her with questions for the rest of the meal, as they often did—now most were about Hint, and whether they could get fire-lizards, and how hard it was to Impress one. The list went on and on. Arryn told her cousins that they'd have to wait a few Turns until Impressing a fire-lizard. And even then, she said, they might be Searched. This last she said with a wink, and Kadal fell silent with very serious awe written across his face. Maryl smiled at her son and Yenar shook his head at Arryn, eyes twinkling.

"Don't go getting his hopes up," he told her as she walked out into the sunlight, preparing for the ride back to Benden. "Besides," he added, "the Hold has to go to one of my children, and what will I do if they are both dragon-riders?"

Arryn chuckled, but appreciated the gravity behind her uncle's joking statement. She would keep that in mind, in future visits, though she wasn't sure anything she did would temper Kadal's enthusiastic adoration of all things dragon-related. Yenar shook her hand, a courtesey as befit a dragon-rider, and then embraced her. He ushered Kadal and Taelin back inside, leaving his wife alone with Arryn for a moment.

Maryl drew Arryn into a hug. Arryn felt herself stiffen and immediately shame washed over her—she didn't want her aunt to think that she resented her, or her cousins, or anything of the sort. It was just the fact that, although she had Lira (and other women who were friends) at the Weyr, she was still rather awkward with the whole feminine grace thing. Where was she supposed to put her hands? It wasn't like hugging T'ran—her hands definitely weren't supposed to go where they did when she hugged him—or even Lira, they were more comfortable than sisters with one another. She settled for putting her hands somewhere on her aunt's shoulders, resting her chin lightly on the older woman's shoulder.

After a long moment, Maryl drew back, her kind eyes surveying Arryn's face. "I am glad that you were spared heartbreak."

Arryn shifted uncomfortably, trying to smile. "Well, that's the way of the weyr, sometimes. It's not really about what we want…riders have to put their dragons first."

Maventh, landing behind Arryn in a gust of wind, folded her wings and crooned affectionately. Maryl did not miss this interaction.

"Riders put their dragons first, much like mothers put their children first," she said thoughtfully.

"I think more like sisters," said Arryn, grinning as Maventh shoved her huge head into her chest. She rubbed the big green's eyeridge affectionately. "We'd die for one another," she murmured, smiling in wordless love as she rested her forehead against Maventh's warm hide.

"I would die for my children," Maryl said softly, as if in agreement.

Maventh raised her head and gazed keenly at Maryl. _Your uncle's wife is very perceptive._

_Yes,_ Arryn agreed. She liked her aunt and was once again reminded of how glad she was that her uncle had found happiness. There was levity in her aunt's statement that made her look at the older woman again. "Is there something I should know, Aunt Maryl?"

The air between them grew thick with tension as the dragon-rider gazed at her uncle's wife steadily, her green eyes sharp and unblinking. Maryl pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. She took a deep breath.

"Yenar did not want me to tell you this. But…I would rather tell you and nothing come of it than any ill befall my children."

Arryn took a step forward, every muscle in her body vibrating with a sudden rush of adrenaline. "Why would anything happen to Kadal or Taelin?"

"There was a rider who visited here. I didn't know him, and neither did Yenar, but he knew you." Maryl's eyes were wide now in her pale face. "Yenar couldn't refuse him entry."

The strict laws governing interaction between Holders and riders dictated that every courtesey of hospitality be extended to riders away from their weyr, especially during a Pass. Arryn tensed. "What happened?"

"He requested that Yenar share a meal with him. He told him that…" Maryl swallowed. "He told him that Ruatha should check its allegiance to Benden, lest some accident befall our children."

"I swear by the First Egg, Aunt, give me this rider's name and I will make sure he cannot do anything to harm my cousins," Arryn said, outrage warming her spine.

"He wore a black vest and no device. He wouldn't give his name," Maryl whispered. Then she blanched even further. "He also said if Yenar told anyone, we would pay."

"Yenar hasn't told anyone," Arryn replied through gritted teeth. That a rider would threaten her young cousins—she felt a rage similar to that which had consumed her when Sh'let and Parnileth had been found, their telepathic connection brutally severed. She took a deep breath. A cold spike of logic penetrated her mind. Might the two be connected? Another fragment floated into her consciousness as she thought of her cousins: Kadal, his small face animated as he informed her about Kitty Ping's scientific prowess. "This behavior is unfitting of a dragon-rider," she said, her voice cooler now, more aloof. She looked at her aunt. "I will find him. Kadal and Taelin are safe as long as Benden dragons fly the skies."

Maryl nodded, but the worry in her eyes still shone plainly as she hugged Arryn again.

"I am sorry I've brought danger to your family," Arryn whispered.

Maryl shook her head. "You have no guilt in this, my dear. If not this, then it would be something else. There is always danger. It is just clearer at some times."

Arryn smiled and nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality, Aunt." She paused. "I give you permission to shut your gates to any rider that does not bear a letter from me. I will send riders to make sure your Hold is safe."

_If this rider is so concerned about Ruatha's allegiance to Benden, Benden riders in Ruatha skies might anger him_, Maventh pointed out.

"True," Arryn muttered. Then she had it. "I'll ask N'ral to call on some of his friends at High Reaches. With one of their own as Benden's Weyrleader, they should cooperate."

"Thank you."

"You can thank me after I find this wherry-headed rider and make him apologize for being rude," Arryn said, a grim smile lighting her eyes as she tightened the straps of the riding gear.

"Safe journey," Maryl said as Arryn swung up onto Maventh's neck.

Arryn pulled on her cap and goggles and waved to her aunt, who had moved to the far end of the courtyard to allow Maventh room to take off. The courtyard was barely big enough for the green dragon to stretch her wings. With three great strokes, they were airborne, and Maventh bugled a farewell to Ruatha before sliding back to Benden.

The afternoon sun bronzed the fireheights as Maventh announced her arrival to the watch-dragon. An air of satiation hung over the weyr. Arryn spotted a few pairs here and there strolling the ledges or across the Weyrbowl. A handful of dragons flew patterns across the sky, in the higher layers, honing their speed for Threadfall and working out nervous energy in the process. There were no bronzes among them.

Maventh trumpeted the clear, bell-like greeting she reserved only for Ereth. The great bronze lifted his head from where he was sunning on the rocks, flapping one wing lazily, as if this were just an ordinary day. Maventh landed neatly on their ledge, deposited Arryn and, once divested of her riding gear, took off again to join her weyrmate in the sun. Arryn smiled as she heard the two greet each other, a special sort of joy in their voices.

Her breath caught in her throat as she entered her living quarters. Would T'ran be there? And how would he react to losing his chance at remaining Weyrleader? She put away the riding gear in its alcove, and began unbuttoning her riding vest as she walked further into the weyr. Suddenly she felt him behind her, his warm hands settling over hers.

"Let me do that," he said softly, remnants of dragon-lust quivering in his voice. Arryn turned around and let him unbutton her vest. The look in his eyes made her shiver. It made her very, very glad that Ereth had not flown Finneseth, because she suddenly knew she would not have been able to bear losing him. T'ran paused, his hands encircling her waist.

"Are you glad?" she whispered, almost fearfully, searching his face for clues.

He smiled then, just a little, and kissed her fiercely, possessively. "Ereth could have won," he said roughly. He took her face in his hands. "But I didn't want him to."

"You don't want to be Weyrleader?"

"If it's a choice between being Weyrleader and being your weyrmate," T'ran said, "I never want to be Weyrleader."

"Well," Arryn said devilishly, "even though you didn't win the flight, you'll still be well bedded."

T'ran looked at her in mock surprise. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Arryn said, her answer turning into a little growl as she felt T'ran's suppressed dragon-lust wash over her. She captured his lips and he was fumbling with her shirt as they stumbled toward their sleeping furs, Arryn making it very clear that she was determined to make up for lost time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey everyone! Again I must apologize for lack of update...hopefully I'll be able to get this story finished before school starts again. As always, happy reading and let me know what you think...a last note, for some reason the document manager won't let me italicize, no matter how I try, so I'm sorry if that's confusing! Enjoy!**

**Arwen**

Vell awoke slowly, her consciousness returning in small bits and pieces. First she was aware of a solid warmth at her back, and for a moment she was a weyrling again, with Finneseth curled in the sleeping furs beside her. Then, as she took a deep breath, she noted a peculiar feeling of satiation, a lazy satisfaction that tempered the soreness of her body. She opened her eyes and blinked, rolling over to address Finneseth, only to find a very handsome, very unclothed man in her sleeping furs. She froze, and the memories came back in a rush of emotion so potent that she bit her lip against it. Yet somehow, embarrassment and shame were not among those emotions. It had been a bit awkward at first, but only a little, since she'd had the dragon-lust to erase her inhibitions. She reached out with her mind and found Finneseth fast asleep in the morning sun, her great golden form entangled with the reddish bronze of Elianth. With a small smile, she let her dragon sleep.

Vell propped herself up on one elbow, studying the rider whose dragon had caught Finneseth. Marlin's comment returned to her mind unbidden and she had to stifle a giggle; she had to admit, her friend was right about N'ral's prowess. It was strange to think that out of all those riders, one of her childhood friends had become her weyrmate and her first lover. She'd had dalliances, of course, but nothing beyond the plane of heated kisses and stolen smiles. That had contributed to her fear of Finneseth's rising, a fear she now knew was ungrounded, at least in her case. She was sure that other young queen-riders had ended up with a man they didn't necessarily desire in their bed, that first mating flight; she was only grateful that it hadn't happened to her—though she had been blindsided by N'ral's presence, enough to free her from the dragon-lust for just a moment, when she'd recognized him.

Her grey eyes considered him. He wore his dark, reddish hair—which was eerily akin to the color of his dragon—shorter than most riders, and the style laid bare his strong, square jawline and broad cheekbones. The rough masculinity of his face was tempered by his full, sensitive lips and long lashes. She supressed the urge to touch his lips with one finger, tucking her hands under her stomach as she gazed at him, thinking back to when she had known him at High Reaches.

Nimoral, as he'd been named then, had been one of her older brother's close friends. She remembered that her mother had often warned Thelan against putting too much stock in Nimoral's opinions, since Nimoral had a reputation for thrill-seeking. Her mother had also warned her against Nimoral, when she was young and naïve (or rather, more naïve, she amended mentally). Her brother's friend had a reputation for thrill-seeking of a different sort as well, among the women of High Reaches. Vell had noticed his good looks, but had shown no interest in him or any other young man at that age, and so she had been saved from that danger. Her brow creased a little as she wondered how many women he had slept with before her, or whether it was all youthful boasting.

In any case, she had never had a low opinion of Nimoral, mostly because she watched how he treated other people. Most of the time he had a kind word for everyone, and putting aside his womanizing ways, he was a decent sort when it came to weyrbred men. His father had been a bronze-rider, his mother Hold-bred, and so it was expected that he Impress and settle down at some point. Vell guessed that that was exactly what had happened, and she was glad of it. She refused to let herself think of K'lin, or any of the other riders who had been on the ledge during Finneseth's flight. What was done, was done.

She shifted a little, wincing as she tried to stretch without disturbing N'ral. Her efforts were unsuccessful: he stirred and opened his eyes. A crooked smile spread across his lips as he looked up at her—his trademark smile, she supposed. His eyes were a blue so dark they were almost black.

"Good morning," she said softly. What was one supposed to say, after all?

He smiled a little more and sat up with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head.

"Shards, what happened there?" Vell asked, suddenly spying red marks on his back and chest—the thin lines looked like scratches, she realized.

"You happened," replied N'ral teasingly.

"Wait—I did that?" Vell felt her eyes widen, and then a blush crept into her cheeks, burning on the back of her neck. "Shards, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Rose,"N'ral replied casually. When she remained frozen in place, staring, he reached up and took her chin in one hand, guiding her eyes to his own. "Look at me, Vell. There's no shame in anything that happened last night. You were wonderful." She blinked, as though in confusion. He tucked her dark hair behind one of her ears, leaning toward her. "You're pretty when you blush," he murmured with a small smile before kissing her lips gently. She trembled a little as he touched her shoulder.

I might gag, Finneseth broke in suddenly. Vell straightened and had to laugh. N'ral asked Elianth what was going on, she guessed, because after a moment he chuckled, too.

I'm sorry that N'ral is too sweet for your taste, Vell retorted.

He's not, Finneseth replied. I just wanted to annoy you.

What else is new? Vell was glad that Finneseth was back to her old, playful self again. She wouldn't have been able to stand another day of drooling and staring everywhere she went. Finneseth had emerged from her cocoon of lust as a glowing, radiant queen—the queen that Benden deserved. Vell could hear the distant echoes of dragons greeting Finneseth as she winged her way leisurely over the Weyrbowl, over the ledges, toward the Hunting Ground. Elianth flew close at her side, wings brushing her now and again as if to mark her.

Vell found a shirt by the sleeping-furs and pulled it on, realizing that it was N'ral's too late. But perhaps that was a good thing, since his shirt was large enough on her to act as a sort of night-gown. She smiled at N'ral as she slid out of bed, somehow feeling much surer of herself now that she was free of the lingering sloth of sleep. "So, what do we do now?" she asked, half teasing and half serious.

N'ral chuckled and stretched leisurely, rubbing his mussed hair with one hand. "Whatever you want to do."

Vell was considering all the possibilities when her stomach gave a traitorously loud rumble. N'ral raised one eyebrow.

"Perhaps breakfast?" he suggested, finding his trousers.

Vell smiled and nodded. Together they walked into the antechamber and after N'ral had found a shirt and Vell had pulled on a pair of old blue breeches, they ventured out, intending to go to the kitchens—but instead found an array of baskets arranged carefully on the ledge of the Queen's Weyr. N'ral picked one basket up and lifted its cloth cover; a very pleasing sweet aroma wafted out. He grinned and said, "I'm beginning to like Benden hospitality." His blue eyes glimmered as he watched Vell investigate the contents of another basket, his shirt hanging loosely on her slim form.

"Well," Vell said, "breakfast in bed?"

"Maybe not in bed. I don't know if we'd get anything to eat."

She grinned and swatted him lightly on the arm as she passed, the handles of two baskets slung over her forearm. While she'd thought that knowing N'ral as a girl would have caused awkwardness, it didn't—it seemed to ease her social ineptitude, at the very least, to have someone who had witnessed her gangly adolescence say with such utter confidence that she was beautiful. Her stomach performed a happy flip at the thought.

You are a queen-rider of Benden. You need no man to tell you that you are beautiful, Finneseth interposed almost fiercely.

I may not need a man to tell me, replied Vell just as fiercely, but I can feel happy when he does. Did dragons understand love? Though they'd grown so much together over the past Turns, Vell knew that she had not even scratched the surface of the complex relationship between a rider and her dragon. The attention Finneseth had garnered from the bronzes and browns during the days leading up to her flight, that definitely wasn't love. The desperate need she had experienced on the ledge was completely different than the warm glow that lit her from the inside right now, she decided. There was no razor-edge of lust slicing into her mind, driving all other thoughts out, but now that she could actually think, she was quite happy with the whole situation, and that was probably all she could expect. She didn't particularly relish the thought of facing K'lin, or any of the other spurned riders, for that matter.

They should understand, Finneseth reassured her. They are riders as well. And if they do not understand then they are not worth your time.

Well, aren't you a little haughty this morning, darling, retorted Vell with a small smile, taking a bite of a scone. Her stomach gurgled in pleasure and N'ral raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged and smiled at him.

I flew fast and far, said Finneseth, her attention half-diverted as she approached the Hunting Grounds. Vell felt her dragon's fierce joy as she arrowed down onto a herd-beast, barely giving the creature time to panic before cleanly snapping its neck. I have a right to be proud.

As long as your ego can still fit in the weyr, Vell muttered mentally. I thought bronzes were supposed to be the arrogant ones.

There is a different between arrogance and pride, pointed out Finneseth as she sliced open the belly of the herd-beast. I am not arrogant. I am proud.

If you say so, Vell said, shaking her head and smiling. She projected an image at Finneseth: a small white-gold dragonet, tripping over her wings and creeling. Then, another picture, of the morning after the Hatching, when she had woken up to find Finneseth cocooned in all the furs from her bed, with only the tip of her white-gold nose showing.

Finneseth snorted in amusement. I am not a hatchling anymore. Her tone shifted. Soon I will have hatchlings of my own.

Vell expected to feel a familiar spike of panic at the thought of Finneseth's hatchlings, but instead, she found herself smiling. I know, love.

You are not frightened anymore.

No, Vell said, looking across the table into N'ral's very blue eyes. I'm not.

Arryn awoke to a polite rapping on the door of her weyr. She scrubbed a hand across her eyes and growled as the knocking became louder and more insistent. Glancing over at the other side of the furs, she discovered that T'ran had already gone to the bathing pools. He liked to wake up with a good wash; she, on the other hand, had decided long ago that she was very happy to bathe at night if that meant a few more minutes of sleep in the morning.

"I'm coming," she snapped at whoever was doing the knocking. She pulled on a pair of trousers and stumped across the weyr to open the door.

"Weyrwoman," said the healer respectfully, flashing her a smile.

"Paela." Arryn returned the nod courteously, but inwardly she groaned. No-one had any right to be that bright-eyed and cheery at this hour of the morning, she decided.

"May I come in?"

"Of course." Arryn stepped aside and shut the door behind the healer, suppressing a yawn. "What can I do for you this morning?"

"There's been new developments with Sh'let and Parnileth, the separated pair," Paela said.

Arryn's eyes darkened. She needed no reminder about what had happened to the young blue-rider and his dragon. "Yes?"

"Sh'let has been getting better, as you know, with his awareness. He started recognizing people last week. Did I tell you the young queen-rider went to see him?"

"No. But thank you for telling me now." Arryn felt a flush of approval and pride in the young woman that would now be the Weyrwoman of Benden. She and Vell had grown almost as close as sisters in the weeks leading up to Finneseth's rising.

"In any case," continued Paela, "he hadn't remembered anything about what happened, until yesterday."

Arryn sat up a little straighter. "He was able to tell you?"

Paela nodded. "Yes. I was a bit wary at first. I didn't want to push him, since the memories might be…hurtful."

Arryn sighed and nodded in understanding. "I see how that could be a concern. But he told you?"

"Last night." Paela paused. "I have to be honest, Weyrwoman, I don't know if I can believe him."

"Why would he lie?" demanded Arryn, her protective urges toward the young rider surging.

Paela raised her hands in the air to calm the green-rider. "He has no reason to lie. I am not saying he did it willingly, but perhaps his story is just a product of an addled mind. There's no telling what injuries I cannot see."

"Perhaps you should just tell me the story, and let me decide for myself," said Arryn, a bit coolly.

Paela bowed her head slightly. "Very well, Weyrwoman. It is…disturbing, to say the least."

Arryn watched as the healer took a deep breath. In the Turns since her Impression of Maventh, she had observed those around her getting older, and changing, Paela among them. There were small streaks of grey in the healer's hair now, despite her relatively young age. Arryn knew it was not easy to deal with the ugly side of flying Thread, so she composed herself and listened respectfully.

"Sh'let said that he and Parnileth had been practicing patterns, flying a bit farther from the Weyr than usual. He said they were over the flatlands, down to the south. Parnileth grew tired and there was a lake, so they landed and Parnileth was swimming. Sh'let said he fell asleep on the bank of the lake, and he woke when Parnileth bugled a greeting to another dragon. The next thing he knew, there was a strange rider standing over him, threatening him with a dagger. He said the strange rider told him to follow him, and to tell Parnileth to follow as well."

"With a dagger at his rider's throat, Parnileth must have been mad with rage and fear," Arryn murmured, mostly to herself. She motioned for Paela to continue.

"Sh'let said that the rider led him away from the lake, and then hit him with the handle of the dagger. When he woke, he was blindfolded and on the strange rider's dragon. They went between. He told Parnileth not to follow, but he did. He said that there was a woman's voice, and a child's, and then he felt the prick of a needle. Remember the ampoule I had theorized about?" Paela's face was grim. "Sh'let said that as soon as they injected him, it was…as if his whole body was on fire." She shook her head. "It was almost too much for him, just remembering it. I was afraid he was going to sink into that waking sleep again. But he managed to pull through it. He's a tough lad."

"Yes, he is," agreed Arryn.

"He said he heard Parnileth roaring, angrier than he'd ever heard him before, and then there was a flash of surprise from his dragon. The pain became more intense because Parnileth was feeling it too."

"They injected Parnileth as well?"

Paela nodded. "Into one of the large veins just under his wing. I don't know how they did it, whether they threatened Sh'let or just shot it in a dart. I don't particularly care. In any case, Sh'let said he blacked out, and when he woke up…he thought Parnileth was dead."

"Because he couldn't hear him," Arryn said.

"Yes."

Arryn stood and began to pace. "So, Sh'let's kidnappers….a strange rider, he said, and then a woman's voice?"

"Yes."

Arryn felt Maventh prodding at her mind. She opened her thoughts, letting Maventh hear the whole story about Sh'let and Parnileth. The green dragon suppressed a bugle of rage. Then Arryn stopped dead. "The strange rider. Did Sh'let…did he say if he had any device on his vest?"

Paela shook her head, a crease on her brow. "No. That would be something he'd remember, but he didn't say anything about a weyr device."

"Go ask Sh'let, please," Arryn said softly. She barely heard Paela's agreement. The healer left and she still stood, afraid that if she moved the pieces of the puzzle would shift in her mind and she would lose her thought. Maventh, she said, the strange rider. If he wore no device on his vest…if he wore just plain black…he could be the same rider that threatened to harm Kadal and Taelin.

Maventh launched herself from the ledge of the weyr, flying in fast, agitated circles. It is possible.

Her dragon's words were clipped by anger, an anger that Arryn now began to feel building up in her chest. She took a deep breath. Maventh could be angry enough for the both of them. But now that they knew a little of what had happened to the severed young pair, it was finally time to do something about it.


	17. Chapter 17

**So I finally figured out how this "new" document manager works...the italics are back! Hopefully that will be easier on everyone's eyes. I'm not quite sure if I'm happy with this chapter, but I decided to post it anyway and stop my useless vacillating by letting you all critique it! Enjoy and as always, happy reading!**

**Arwen**

Vell checked the straps on her riding gear one last time, tugging at her protective gloves nervously. Finneseth swung her head around and looked at her with gently whirling eyes. _Do not be nervous. Elianth says that his rider is not nervous._

"Yes, well, maybe he should be," muttered Vell. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and then slid on her goggles, swinging up onto Finneseth's neck and adjusting the unwieldy flamethrower, checking its valves and tubing with practiced fingers. It was the first Fall since Finneseth's rising, and since she wouldn't be going to the Hatching Grounds for some time, Finneseth refused to sit out and watch safely while the other dragons of Benden flamed Thread and protected their territory. Arryn had smiled at Vell, telling the young queen-rider that Finneseth had most definitely inherited the stubbornness of her dam, though it was much more subtle and flashed only occasionally. So now Vell's stomach was in a knot as Finneseth gathered herself and launched into the sky. The leading edge of the Fall was near enough that it could be reached without going _between_, and while Vell had been willing to fly Thread, she had not been willing to compromise the health of Finneseth's first clutch by venturing into that icy cold.

_You are being a mother wherry. My hatchlings would not even feel the cold. It has barely been a week,_ Finneseth reminded her rider.

_You can complain all you want, love, but _one_ of us has to be cautious,_ replied Vell.

_There is a difference between caution and silliness_, said Finneseth with a hint of finality.

Vell shook her head and let her dragon win the argument with a smile. Her thoughts turned to the furious search being conducted for the rider with the black vest. Arryn had told her all the information they knew, in the Chart-room. The green-rider had made it perfectly clear that, after Finneseth's rising, Vell was now Weyrwoman of Benden, allowing the dark-haired young woman to direct the conversation and flow of the meeting. The older riders there had deferred to Arryn's decision, gazing at Vell with the respect and trust due to a full Weyrwoman, despite the fact that many of them were nearly thrice her age, and could have been her father twice over.

"I've spoken to Parnileth,"Arryn said, after looking to Vell for permission to speak. The gathered leadership of the weyr listened to her, expressions of concentration and thought marked clearly on their faces. Arryn's mouth tightened. "I would have asked Maventh to bespeak him, but she gets so upset about what happened to them that I decided it would be easier for me to do it."

"And what did you find?" prompted J'ral, the weathered and scarred old Weyrlingmaster. He caught Vell looking at him and gave her a small nod. A thought struck Vell: J'ral's next batch of pupils would be the riders of Finneseth's hatchlings. It was a bit odd, but she embraced it, just as she had learned to embrace the idea of being Weyrwoman. It was a bit unnerving, having these older riders look to her authority, but she knew she could trust them all to help her make decisions that would be best for Benden.

Arryn took a deep breath. "Parnileth said that the rider's dragon was a bronze. He said that Sh'let thought at first the dragon was a brown, but he knew that it was a bronze because of the way he was bespoken." It was a well-known fact that although dragons worked together much of the time, when push came to shove, bronzes were known to exert authority over browns, blues and greens. "As a blue, and a young one, Parnileth could tell that the stranger's dragon expected his authority obeyed. And then, when the strange rider held a knife to Sh'let's throat, Parnileth said that the bronze dragon was..._happy_, or excited. He didn't really have a name for the emotion."

A grizzled rider shook his head balefully. "There's precious few dragons that'd be gleeful about hurtin' another's rider."

The rider next to him, who wore an eyepatch over his left eye, nodded and said, "But there's still more out there than we'd like to admit, riders twistin' their thoughts with cruelty and malice."

"The real problem," pointed out a solidly built brown-rider, "is that this bronze is a rogue. Not beholden to any weyr, no loyalties, no ties."

A moment of thoughtful silence settled over the room. Then Sh'len, a rather quiet brown-rider who Vell recalled was very close friends with T'ran, looked at her for permission to speak. She nodded her assent.

"It seems to me," Sh'len said slowly, "that we have enough to go looking for this rider. Black vest, no device, no weyr, a distinctively marked bronze dragon...the fact that it's a rogue pair might well work in our favor. If we can ascertain exactly where Parnileth and Sh'let were apprehended, then we can start from there. The most likely location for a pair to adequately disguise their presence is in some sort of mountain or underground cavern."

The rider with the eye-patch stood from the table and went in search of a set of maps. After a moment of searching, he spread out a set of hide maps across the table. Arryn closed her eyes, bespeaking Parnileth. They all waited. N'ral, sitting at Vell's right side, gave her an encouraging smile before going back to examining the diagram of flight patterns flown by Benden dragons. There were small differences in the drills and patterns flown in every weyr, and he was set on learning the subtleties of his new weyr's strategies before riding his first Fall as Weyrleader.

Arryn opened her eyes and they all watched as she scanned the maps with lightning speed, spreading them all out so she could view them at one time. Her brow darkened with concentration as she leaned on the table, biting her lip. Then she jabbed a finger at one of the maps triumphantly. "There's the lake that they started out at. They jumped _between_. Parnileth showed me an image of mountains...not too high, with grassy plains at the base and a forest stretching away to the east. I thought I could see a few farms, but not many."

"Someplace relatively isolated, then," said J'ral. He stood and walked over to the maps.

"While they're looking at the maps, I think we need to discuss something else," said V'remnar, another bronze-rider whose Devarith had come from the same clutch as Maventh and Ereth.

"What do you think we need to decide, V'remnar?" Vell asked in what she hoped was a calm and collected voice.

V'remnar looked quietly pleased that she had remembered his name. "Once we find this bastard, what are we going to do to him?"

Vell nodded. It was a legitimate question. She made sure that Finneseth wasn't peeking in on her thoughts before thinking about it; her dragon became understandably agitated whenever she caught wind of the whole affair. "I know that some of you would be in favor of killing him," she said slowly, observing that a few of the riders nodded their heads slightly in affirmation. "But even though I'm young, with admittedly less experience than most of those gathered here," she continued, "I believe that we need to keep in mind the earliest lessons we learned as riders." She smiled slightly at J'ral, whose eyes brightened almost imperceptibly with approval. "Dragon-riders are not meant to harm. We are here to protect and defend Pern."

"But this-monster-had no qualms about harming one of Benden's young ones," said H'rath. Green Plenneth's rider, if Vell remembered correctly, and one of the best Search pairs at the Weyr.

She looked to N'ral for support. He thought over his words carefully, but before he could speak, another rider stepped in.

"The Weyrwoman is right," said K'lin from his seat farther down the table. "It is not our duty to kill. The rider should be punished for what he has done, yes, but a death sentence would make us no better than him."

Vell stared at K'lin a little before she remembered herself. There had definitely been tension between K'lin and her recently, after N'ral's unexpected victory-if that was the proper term-at Finneseth's rising. She had no doubt that K'lin disliked N'ral, and that probably would not change in the near future, but she was glad he had finally decided to treat her with some semblance of normalcy. He was a good and experienced bronze-rider, one of the best Wingleaders in Benden, and she knew she would need his guidance and advice. N'ral was an outstanding rider, too, but he lacked the base of trust that K'lin already possessed with the riders of Benden. Until N'ral proved himself to Benden, K'lin's opinion would probably hold more weight with the other riders. They would obey N'ral, yes, but they respected K'lin.

"Thank you, K'lin," Vell said smoothly. "In any case, we should focus on finding this rider so he cannot do this to any other pairs."

"Ha," J'ral said in satisfaction, his leathery face intense with an emotion that Vell couldn't interpret. "I think we've found their little hideaway." He brought over the map for Vell and N'ral's inspection. "See here, here's the plains, and the mountains, that forest that Arryn saw, and a few farms. Fits perfectly."

Vell's stomach clenched. "Those mountains are in High Reaches territory."

N'ral nodded in agreement. "They also have a system of caves beneath them. I've never seen any large enough for a dragon, but I'm sure that they're there, if you look hard enough."

"Pardon my asking," said Sh'len carefully, "but aren't those cave systems little more than rumors?"

"I had a rather adventuresome spirit when I was younger," replied N'ral with a bit of a grin, eliciting smiles from some of the older riders in return. "Trust me, those caves are real enough to get lost in for a few days."

"Are you speaking from experience, Weyrleader?" said the rider with the eyepatch with a bit of a roguish glint in his good eye.

"Perhaps," N'ral allowed.

"Wouldn't the High Reaches Weyrleader and Weyrwoman be the best ones to consult about this?" asked H'rath.

"H'rath, you forget," said K'lin, with a cold smile, "that both our Weyrwoman and our...Weyrleader...are from High Reaches."

Vell fixed K'lin with an icy look for a moment. Arryn glanced at T'ran and J'ral rolled his eyes skyward. Oh, the conflicts of the young and beautiful, the grizzled old rider thought sourly.

_You were once young,_ his blue reminded him. _Perhaps not beautiful, but you have at least one half of the experience._

"So we know where they are, or we think we know, at any rate," said P'tar. "What will we do about it?"

"There's a Fall in two days' time. We should attend to that above all," T'ran replied. Then, seeming to remember that he was not technically Weyrleader anymore, he deferred to N'ral. N'ral and T'ran, at least, seemed to get along quite well, from what Vell could see.

"I agree with T'ran," said N'ral firmly. "The Fall should remain priority."

"Nobody is saying that the Fall shouldn't be priority," said K'lin, "but something should be done, now that we know where to look."

A murmur of agreement rose from around the table at K'lin's statement. Vell saw Arryn give K'lin a warning look. K'lin raised his eyebrows at her. Vell had the feeling that they were conversing through their dragons, and the conversation wasn't exactly congenial.

"What would you suggest, Wingleader?" N'ral asked K'lin with a stiff courtesy.

"Let at least two pairs go looking," replied K'lin after a moment. "Pairs, or maybe even groups of three, to ensure that they outnumber this rogue rider."

"Can six riders be spared?" N'ral asked T'ran, who thought about the question carefully before replying.

"Yes," the former Weyrleader said. "It will be a bit of a stretch, but six riders and their dragons can be spared, as long as they are not all bronzes or browns."

"We should have at least one bronze with each group," said K'lin, addressing T'ran and not N'ral, "so that this rogue dragon won't be able to intimidate as easily."

"I'll go," said V'remnar. "Devarith will put any rogue back in his place if he needs to."

Arryn smiled and looked at N'ral. "Weyrleader, what do you think?"

"V'remnar will be the leader of the first group," said N'ral. "Are there any more volunteers?"

A clamor of voices erupted. It took a few moments to sort everything out, but in the end, V'remnar with his Devarith, K'lin and Pertanth, and the grizzled rider with the eyepatch, whose name was R'mor, rider of bronze Lorkanth, all volunteered to lead search teams. The three bronze-riders, after paying their respects to Vell, left the chart-room in order to pick the other riders that would accompany them.

In the days following, the search teams had drawn up a schedule for sweeping the areas most likely to contain this rogue pair. They had gained permission from the leadership of High Reaches, and a promise of cooperation and help if it was needed. The watches on the fire-heights were doubled, and although that meant more work for the junior riders of the weyr, few complaints were voiced. Riders adopted the habit of traveling in groups, a practice that had been in place before, after the first attack, but now was reinforced by the appearance of the search parties, reminding the weyr of the possibility of another attack.

Vell, for her part, had helped Finneseth keep track of the search parties. The bronze of each party reported to her on a regular basis. Maventh took the other half of this duty. They rotated eight-hour shifts so that each pair could rest. Vell had grown familiar with sitting in front of a sand-table in the grey hours of early morning, scratching away at a message relayed by a team leader or another clue that might, just might, lead them to this mysterious rider who was so bent on hurting Benden. That was the question that plagued her. Why Benden? Why not High Reaches? Or Telgar? Or any other weyr? Shards, High Reaches was closer, after all, if what they had figured out on the maps was accurate at all.

The search teams had been called back to the weyr for the Fall, so that neither Maventh nor Finneseth had to worry about incoming reports from the team leaders while they were flying Thread. For that, Vell was thankful. She was nervous enough, with N'ral flying his first Fall with Benden. It was his first true test, and even though he had smiled and kissed her before heading out that morning, she could tell that he was more nervous than he would ever say.

_Ariath's rider says she will race us to the edge,_ relayed Finneseth with a hint of amusement. Vell smiled. Marlin hadn't changed a bit, even though Ariath had been flown by brown Grath well before Finneseth.

"Well, what are you waiting for then?" she said. In way of reply, Finneseth launched herself off the ledge and Vell felt the familiar joy of flight as the golden queen's wings spread wide, dappled with the morning sun. They glided low, Finneseth answering the greeting calls of the other dragons as they passed.

Marlin, aboard dazzlingly green Ariath, raised a hand in greeting as Finneseth approached, her wide grin visible from a distance. Ariath's long, clear bugle was answered by her golden sister; the two dragons liked each other immensely, that much was apparent. The other dragons of the Queen's Wing arrived in pairs and groups, blinking in from _between_. A few had been injured in the last Fall, and Finneseth spoke to each of these dragons individually, ensuring that they were, in fact, well enough to fly Thread, even if it was in the relative safety of the Queen's Wing.

The grey edge of the Fall became visible, and with it came the brilliant colors of Benden's dragons, flickering in and out of the sky well above them, brief spurts of flame dancing in the blue morning. The dragons of the Queen's Wing, a good number of greens and blues, as well as two browns that had been injured, formed their pattern around the white-gold queen. They cleaned up the Thread missed by the dragons above, straggling clumps here and there. Vell wielded her flamethrower with practiced ease, enjoying the sight of the weyr-_her_ weyr-in splendid action.

It was about halfway through the Fall when it happened. A few dragons had been injured, Finneseth was relaying messages to Elianth and speaking with Maventh about an issue with the higher wings. Vell aimed her flamethrower at a clump of Thread and flame spurted from the nozzle. Finneseth corkscrewed away to avoid the hot ash, her flying maneuvers particularly exuberant: the Fall was going well, there was no major injuries yet, and N'ral and Elianth were leading superbly, well versed in the strategies of the Benden dragons.

It was sudden. A wave of hatred washed over Vell, so intense that her stomach turned. Finneseth barely had time to register surprise before Marlin's scream cut through the rushing wind. The voice of green Ariath soon followed, a bugle laden with rage and fear. Vell felt Ariath's terror through Finneseth, the edges of it numbing her mind. She twisted in her riding gear, trying to get a glimpse of her friend, trying to reassure Finneseth because the young queen was broadcasting Ariath's emotions to the dragons nearest them. Then she saw the dark, mottled dragon, and the rider upon its back-another sharp pang of the rider's blazing hatred, amplified by the dragons, struck her. And then she saw that Ariath was riderless: the black-vested rider had Marlin.

Vell took a deep breath. Finneseth wheeled to face the mottled bronze dragon, her eyes blazing with rightful authority. _Let them go,_ Benden's queen dragon ordered, her mental voice commanding.

_No._ The bronze dragon answered calmly, almost mechanically.

Vell felt Maventh bespeaking Finneseth, and then Arryn; she felt Finneseth blocking them both out, concentrating on the crisis before them. A knife flashed at Marlin's throat; Ariath bellowed in rage and fear. Finneseth rolled to the side to avoid a clump of Thread. Vell made no move to raise her flamethrower. There were more important matters at hand.

"What do you want?" she shouted at the black-clothed bronze-rider. The two dragons were close, drawn together by the vortex of emotion, Finneseth rumbling thunderously. Vell saw the glitter of the man's eyes as he replied with a single word.

"You."

Vell knew with a sickening certainty that he didn't mean _just_ her, because he knew as well as she that Finneseth was a part of her, her second heart. A chill ran down her back. Suddenly her vision was filled with brown: one of the just-healed dragons blinked into the space between Finneseth and the bronze, determined to protect his queen. There was no hesitation: the rogue bronze lunged forward and clamped his jaws on the neck of the brown with a gut-wrenching crack of bone and sinew. Finneseth screamed as the brown fought, his rider's face a mask of pain. Then the pair blinked out again. Gone forever.

The loss hit Vell like a physical blow. She tried to catch her breath. Marlin screamed again, and Vell saw with a lurch that the knife was in Marlin's arm, tracing a bloody pattern.

_You for the green-rider_.

The dragons of the queen's wing were circling around Finneseth, ready to attack the bronze and give their lives to defend Benden's future. Elianth and Pertanth were demanding to know what was wrong, bespeaking Finneseth insistently. Then Ariath told Finneseth something that made up Vell's mind. The green dragon told Finneseth that Marlin was with child.

"Let her go!" she yelled, her rage building.

_You for the green-rider._

"Yes!"

The dragons of the queen's wing roared in protest. Marlin was with child, yes, but so was Finneseth! How could her rider place the queen in so much danger?

_We will go with them to save the life of our sister, and the unborn child of her rider. But we will show them what it means to challenge a queen,_ Finneseth said.

The rider still clenched Marlin to his side in a vise-like grip, the bloody knife now in his other hand.

_Follow,_ said the dark-mottled bronze. He projected to Finneseth an image of mountains, darkened by shadows, and a forest in the distance. Vell felt Finneseth transmit the message to Elianth and Pertanth. They would come for their queen. Then Marlin sobbed, the dark-mottled bronze blinked out, and Finneseth slid into the cold of _between_, unsure of what was to meet them when they emerged.


	18. Chapter 18

**I find myself apologizing for delays more and more...and now I should forewarn you all that this is kind of a teaser...but I figured it would be better to post it and let everyone get a taste of the fabulous climax I have coming for you, eventually. Hopefully soon. Pesky real life. As always, I enjoy constructive criticism, speculations and musings. Enjoy!**

**Arwen**

Maventh reared back from flaming a clump of writhing Thread, turning her great head to accept more firestone. Arryn willingly supplied her with a few chunks. The green dragon chewed and swallowed, her great jaws pulverizing the stone easily.

_The Fall is going well,_ Arryn remarked to Maventh, readjusting her grip on the riding straps as they rolled away from the hot ash of just-flamed Thread. She had to admit, she was impressed by the leadership of the new Weyrleader. Despite the fact he was from High Reaches, he obviously knew Benden's flying patterns, and the peculiarities of the Benden territories the Weyr protected. N'ral would do fine, she thought, glancing at the dragons above and below them. Maventh flew mid-level sweep, since, after all, she was as large as a brown and possessed more stamina than most of the blues and greens. Young Marlin's Ariath had shown promising speed despite her smaller size, and the lone bronze of the clutch, Rieneth, was still filling out, now among the middle-sized bronzes. He wouldn't be the size of Elianth or Pertanth, but he wouldn't be small, either, Arryn thought with the touch of fondness that she felt for all of Maventh's now-almost-grown hatchlings.

_They are all well_, Maventh said in response to her rider's thoughts. Then, suddenly, the green dragon tensed as a wave of fear and hatred washed over Arryn, projected from another dragon. She gasped and clutched at the riding straps, clenching her teeth as she fought to trace the strong emotions back to their source. The mind she reached was alien, cold and unfamiliar. It was a dragon, but unlike any dragon she had ever touched with her ability. Its mind was blank and hard, with little thought except those currents of hatred. The fear came from another. Arryn followed the thread of feeling and her stomach dropped as she discovered it was from green Ariath.

_Something's wrong,_ she said to Maventh, who was now just flying defensively, avoiding the Thread that writhed toward them. She had no more flame but did not turn her head for more firestone. She, too, could feel the fear, and some of the hatred, through that mother-instinct that connected her to all her hatchlings, though they were hatchlings no more.

Arryn felt the emotion from Ariath increase from a ripple of uncertain fear to a roaring, all-encompassing terror. She felt rather than heard the green dragon's scream of anguish, her bones vibrating with the intensity of the emotions emanating from the Queen's Wing. _Maventh! Talk to Finneseth!_

They weren't too far from the Queen's Wing, but it would take them precious seconds to fly there. Maventh and Arryn, their minds melded into one now under duress, thought about going _between_, but decided against it. There was danger to Ariath, and perhaps Finneseth. They could not afford even a moment of disconnection.

_She will not listen,_ Maventh said. Arryn pressed her lips together-was there an undercurrent of fear in her courageous green's voice? _Ariath's rider is with child and she will not listen._

Marlin with child? What did that have to do with anything? Arryn flattened herself against Maventh's neck as they raced toward the Queen's Wing. She reached out to Elianth and Ereth. Her distaste for using her ability flared briefly but was suppressed by another sudden flood of emotion: defiance and anger, tinged with a sense of authority. Finneseth. Maventh strained her wings. There was a burst of pain and the unsettling lurch that Arryn felt when her searching mind neared death. Her heart ached as she realized a pair had been lost, and not from the Fall. She could still feel Finneseth, and she held onto the texture of the queen dragon's mind. Then there was a second of indecision, followed by a firm flash of fury, and they were gone.

Maventh spread her wings, stopping so suddenly that Arryn's stomach lurched. Unbidden, a picture was thrust into her mind: mountains, and a lake, and Marlin with a knife in her arm. She wanted to be sick but her nausea faded under an onslaught of anger. The rogue rider had dared to venture into Benden territory again, and the mottled bronze had killed a dragon during a Fall-during a Fall!-and he had lured their young queen into a trap. For a moment Arryn raged against Vell, against her youth and stupidity. Then she took a deep breath. Elianth was surprisingly calm as he bespoke her.

_I will go and I will kill this rogue dragon._

She understood his possessiveness. He had every right to kill the rogue bronze who threatened his queen. But she knew that Benden could not bear to lose both Weyrwoman and Weyrleader. N'ral was their leadership now. _No. Tell N'ral that you must stay here and find out all you can about what was done to Parnileth and his rider, because that might be what they are planning to do with Finneseth._ She leaned on Elianth as she said this, exerting her authority as rider of his queen's mother. Maventh was not a queen, but she still demanded respect. She felt Elianth's unspoken consent. The bronze was by no means happy, and she could feel flashes of fury from N'ral, but the young man had a good head on his shoulders, she thought with relief.

_I do not know if I can say the same for you_, Maventh said, her tone mostly serious.

Arryn took a deep breath. _You know what we're going to do, Mav._

The green dragon gained altitude, her great wings pumping as she avoided clumps of Thread. Arryn felt Pertanth trying to bespeak her.

_Tell T'ran I have to do this. Tell him I love him_, she said to the bronze firmly.

Maventh paused, suspended among the clouds in the jewel-like sky. Arryn looked down and took in the sight of Benden's magnificent dragons-some of them Maventh's own-and thought of the unborn lives at risk. Finneseth and Vell had let emotion and pride make their decision. Perhaps that was how she was making her decision as well. Arryn reached inside her wher-hide vest and drew out the long dagger she always kept there, despite the regulations that mandated no weapons during a Fall. It had served her well once, and by the First Egg, it would serve her well again.

_Let's go and get her back, Mav,_ she said. Maventh bugled her agreement, her anger and her challenge, and with that, they slid _between_, following the image Arryn had grasped from Finneseth.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello all! I know it's been an absolutely unsufferably long time since I've updated....there are multitudes of reasons I could offer but none of them really matter, so I won't bore you. :) Anyway, we're nearing the end of this lovely tale, hopefully in the next few weeks or so. Please let me know what you think....I thrive on reviews, even if I don't deserve them for making you wait so long! Enjoy!**

**Arwen**

Vell shielded her eyes with one hand as they burst into the bright blue of a different sky, a sky studded with mountains, reflected in a lake, pierced with the boughs of a great forest on the horizon. But she did not even spare a single moment to admire the pristine beauty of the scene: her mind was whirling with rage and fear. She felt Finneseth, her beloved, her second heart, tremble angrily beneath her as they sighted the mottled rogue bronze, and the pale face of the second figure on its neck. Green Ariath was still screaming, her cries of alarm and terror echoing emptily in the vast space of the sky.

_Compose yourself, sister,_ Finneseth said, and Ariath quieted a little, emitting soft, desperate sounds now instead of her mind-splitting screeches, flying in fast circles as close as she dared to the bronze. The knife flashed in the hand of the rogue rider. He was motioning them onward, down toward the lake.

Vell looked about her and the emptiness of the sky struck her as brutally as a physical blow. They were alone. They were utterly alone. It was easy to feel brave when they were surrounded by the capable fighting dragons of the Queen's Wing, encapsulated in the safety of Benden. Now... perhaps this decision had not been the best. Doubt wormed into Vell's mind, leaving trails of burgeoning fear in its wake. She was responsible not only for Finneseth, but the scores of unborn lives that her magnificent young dragon had to offer Benden. How could she be so blind as to endanger all that? How could she have let fear for her friend overwhelm her obligation to the Weyr? Finneseth's mighty wings held them aloft, uncertain, even as the rogue rider motioned again with that flashing silver dagger.

_What have I done, dearheart?_ she asked her dragon, bewildered. She wanted to be sick.

_We have done what we have done,_ replied Finneseth, her mental voice heavy as she, too, realized the weight of their decision.

_We could still..._Vell couldn't even finish the thought. Her chest hurt with the enormity of it all: even though she realized the foolishness of their choice, she could not abandon Marlin and Ariath to whatever horrible fate the rogue rider had in store for them. More likely than not, it was the same fate that had befallen Parnileth and his rider. She shivered at the thought.

_We have done what we have done_, said Finneseth again, more firmly. _And now we must have faith._

_Have faith?_ Vell felt herself sinking into an ever more intense haze of incomprehension. She felt Finneseth start forward, following the mottled bronze. Panic began dulling the edges of her vision. She had made the wrong decision. She had failed her weyr and her dragon.

_You must have faith in me and in Benden,_ said Finneseth firmly. _They will not abandon us._

_It will be worse if they come after us, _Vell replied bleakly. She remembered the sickly sound of snapping sinew and the pain on the brown-rider's face...they had died to protect Finneseth and her...

_Have faith,_ admonished Finneseth once more as she followed the rogue bronze over the lake. Vell glanced down and for the first time experienced a dizzy haze of height sickness as she glimpsed the warped reflections of the two dragons skimming over the lake. Ariath followed them closely, keening a little.

Vell felt a mental tug from Finneseth. She took a deep breath and tried to focus. When would the rogue rider give up Marlin? _We should stop._

_Tell him to do the trade now, _agreed Finneseth. She spread her magnificent white-gold wings and halted in midair, creating a breeze that swept Vell's dark hair over her shoulders. The young queen addressed the mottled bronze. _Tell your rider that we will go no farther until he releases the green-rider._

Vell saw the bronze's tail twitch lazily as he informed his rider of their ultimatum. The bronze flew toward them. Vell wanted to pull away, but Finneseth held her ground. _We are Weyrwoman and queen of Benden Weyr,_ she said firmly.

A shock ran through Vell's body as the rider of the rogue dragon looked up and met her eyes. His gaze was cold and pitiless. It felt as though she had swallowed a shard of ice. He smiled, a predatory grin that made her skin crawl. But she lifted her chin and stared back at him, trying to place an icily indifferent look upon her face. They were close enough now that he would be able to hear her. "You have what you want. Let her go or we go," she shouted, and by the First Egg, her voice didn't tremble. She sounded...brave. Foolish, still, but at least brave.

He smiled again. "Very well," he said, "but I want you down here with me before I let her go."

Rage coursed through Finneseth. It took everything Vell had to restrain the great queen from lunging for the bronze-with Marlin half-fainting on his neck it wouldn't do at all. Otherwise, she thought, gritting her teeth, she would have let her dragon go at him. "By the lake," she said, gripping the riding straps with white-knuckled hands as Finneseth wheeled and descended. She would unbuckle herself, she decided, and fulfill her part of the deal as soon as Marlin was safely on the ground.

"Not on the ground," said the bronze-rider.

What does it matter? Vell fumed. The anger was starting to overtake the fear again-a state of mind, she realized, that had done them no good in the first place.

"The green will come beneath me," he shouted, "and your dragon above me. You slide off, I let her go."

_She could fall_, Vell said instantly.

_Ariath will catch her,_ Finneseth said with more confidence than Vell could muster on the best of days.

_We're stupid,_ Vell decided. It was a moment of clarity.

_What is done is done_, Finneseth replied sensibly, though her rider felt her deep, wrenching concern for her unborn hatchlings, who existed as more thought than substance at this point, but still preoccupied her mind.

_Leave me_, Vell said suddenly. _When he has me, go back. Go back to Benden and even if he kills me...hold on long enough to put your eggs on the sands of the Hatching Grounds._

_You are my heart,_ Finneseth replied fiercely. _I cannot survive without you, no matter how you might wish it. And I would never leave you. I will never leave you._

_Looks as though we're stuck in this together then, _said Vell, feeling the corners of her lips inch upwards despite the gravity of the situation. She felt Finneseth give the mental equivalent of a dry laugh. Then...above her, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of green. She felt Finneseth tense. The green was a deeper color than Ariath...and the young green dragon was below them, below the mottled bronze.

_Do not look, do not look, do not look,_ the golden dragon told her rider, a quiver of hope in her voice.

Though her dragon wouldn't say it aloud, even just for the two of them, Vell knew that there was only one green dragon with a rider who could possibly know where they were...and who possessed the tenacity and courage to come after them. She shoved even the thought of their names into the back of her mind.

_Come down closer,_ said the rogue bronze. _Quickly. Or the green-rider dies._

_Ariath is ready,_ said Finneseth.

_Dearheart-_began Vell, but her dragon interrupted her.

_ We do not have time if we want to finish what we have come here to do._

Vell took a deep breath, unhooked her feet from the riding straps, and nodded to the bronze-rider. He swung Marlin over the side of his dragon. For a moment Vell and Marlin gazed at each other. Marlin was pale and tears glistened on her cheeks but her mouth thinned as she realized what Vell was about to do. She tried to shake her head but Vell broke eye contact. She slid off Finneseth's neck at the same time the rider let go of Marlin's wrist.

Falling was a horrible sensation, one no rider ever wanted to experience. And then she felt strong arms catch her roughly, pulling her onto the neck of the rogue bronze. She thought about fighting, but he put the dagger to her neck. Ariath crooned with relief as she caught Marlin as gently as she could. Vell felt Finneseth order her clutch-mate back to Benden. The pair winked out. It was over in the time it took her to draw a deep breath.

"Kindly put that dagger down," she said icily to the man behind her. She felt Finneseth's worry and sadness and anger like her own, building into an ache that she was sure would tear her heart in two.

He chuckled. "Why?"

"Because I am a Weyrwoman and I gave you my word," she replied with stinging anger. "Unless you possess no vestige of the nobility of a bronze-rider at all, in which case you might as well kill me now."

She felt the bronze-rider stiffen-in surprise or anger, she could not tell; but in any case, he withdrew the dagger, still keeping one arm pinned painfully behind her.

Arryn shaded her eyes, swallowing against the bile in her throat. This had to be a nightmare. It was a scene from her worst dreams, coming true. Nevertheless, there had to be a way out of it. She watched tensely, Maventh keeping high above the bronze, as inconspicuous as possible among the blinding blue of the sky. Her heart sank as she saw Vell slide onto the neck of the rogue bronze...and the dagger at her throat...if only he would put that blasted dagger away, she knew what they would do!

_We could attack them,_ Maventh agreed with her rider's thoughts.

Vell spoke to the rider. And...shards. The dagger was away! She reached out quickly, touching a few minds in the distant sky of Benden, pulling them to herself like threads on a loom. _Even if this is the last thing we do, Mav, it will be worth it,_ she thought.

_Benden must have a queen,_ Maventh replied in determination.

They didn't need to say goodbye to each other; they knew each other's thoughts and hearts like their own. And they did not have time for such sadness.

_Now,_ Arryn said.

They blinked into the bone-numbing cold of _between_.

The rogue bronze was beginning to fly toward the mountains, toward the shore of the great lake. Vell remembered N'ral's theory of caves. She suppressed a shiver. Finneseth was following-until she suddenly changed direction sharply, veering away from the pair.

"What-" hissed the bronze-rider.

Maventh hurtled out of _between_ and into the bronze dragon. Arryn launched herself from Maventh's neck, arms spread wide. Vell felt the wind knocked out of her as something hit her, wrenching her from the bronze's back-they were falling again-toward the lake-and they plunged into the water. She heard the bronze bellowing in rage and Maventh roaring out a challenge in reply as the two dragons circled each other in the sky. Finneseth circled, looking for a way to help her dam. The bronze lunged and Maventh nimbly folded her wings, diving beneath his attack.

Vell broke the surface and saw a soaked Arryn gulp in a breath a moment later. Maventh and the bronze grappled in the sky; Arryn looked up fiercely, battle-light gleaming in her eyes as her dragon roared. She felt the rage and protectiveness of a mother whose young had been threatened. The green-rider immediately struck for the shore, which, thankfully, was not far away. They reached the shallows together, with Arryn pulling on Vell's arm urgently, plainly fighting the fear she felt for her dragon, locked in battle with the rogue bronze.

The rogue dragon slashed at Maventh and the green was too slow. Arryn let out a little gasp as she felt the cut along Maventh's flank. They reached the shallows and Vell silently thanked Amhira for making her understand the necessity of physical conditioning. She was breathing hard but not too fast, and she could feel her heart slowing as they sloshed through the shallows. Amhira-and Arryn, she realized-had taught her to be ready for anything. In a dragon-rider's world, the unlikely was only a wing-beat away. She pulled off her sodden gloves as they reached the shore. Arryn's grip on her arm tightened. The older rider turned and faced the Weyrwoman.

The bellows and roars of Maventh and the bronze and Finneseth were the backdrop. Vell could tell Arryn was struggling to focus, struggling not to throw herself completely into the aerial battle raging above them. "Go back to Benden," Arryn told Vell.

"But you-" Vell began protesting.

Arryn tightened her grip even further. Her voice brooked no argument. She had been a Weyrwoman too, once. "This is not a discussion. I am giving you an order."

Vell bridled. For a breath the two women locked wills, green eyes meeting grey, Vell lifting her chin to look up at the taller woman challengingly. And then Arryn's eyes went unfocused-but far from winning the battle of wills, Vell sensed that she had lost-Arryn was talking to Finneseth, convincing the young queen to take her rider and her unborn hatchlings to the safety of Benden.

The queen-rider felt her dragon consent to Arryn's request. A maelstrom of emotions raged within her-shame, anger, betrayal...but mostly she felt ashamed at her own stupidity, ashamed that she had dragged Arryn into the whole situation. Marlin was safe, but now Arryn and Maventh were putting their lives on the line to save her. They had just traded victims...

There was a flash of gold and Finneseth folded her wings, diving down for a quick landing. She warbled urgency to Vell, who glanced at Arryn. The green-rider had turned away and reached into her vest, pulling out a wicked dagger.

"Go!" commanded Arryn. "When you reach Benden, tell Lira and T'ran!"

Vell climbed onto Finneseth's neck, her sodden flight gear dripping and weighing on her frame heavily. Before she could grab the straps, Finneseth was gathering herself-her size usually required her to find a ledge to launch into the air, but the young queen would manage to do this, this once. They were thinking in tandem now, minds melded by the stress and fear. Finneseth leapt upward with all her strength, and there wasn't enough room to get a full wing-stroke in-her great wings were a disadvantage now-but somehow, they were off the ground, wing-sweeps lengthening, digging into the air. Vell visualized the Weyrbowl at Benden.

Then Maventh gave a screech, a sound that Vell had never heard before from the green dragon, and Arryn, below them, cried out in pain and anguish. Vell craned her neck but it was such a blur of bronze and green, wings and tails and long sinuous necks that she couldn't see what was wrong.

_Maventh's wing is torn,_ Finneseth said grimly.

_We should help them!_

_ We should follow their wishes,_ Finneseth replied.

Maventh was struggling valiantly to fend off the bronze's sudden flurry of attacks. In desperation, she flitted _between_. Arryn fell to her knees, dropping her dagger.

"Look!" Vell said it aloud, such was her shock. A figure was running toward Arryn from the direction of the mountains-a figure with gold hair, that plucked at some chord in her memory. For a heart-leaping moment, Vell thought that this was some unknown savior-but then she saw the flash of the dagger in the woman's hand as she ran toward the fallen green-rider.

"Arryn! Look out!"

Arryn heard the shout through a haze of confusion and pain. Their wing was torn. She clutched at her arm, tried to stand. No. They couldn't...she couldn't fly...she couldn't stand...The ground was shaking...And then someone was at her back. She hauled herself to her feet, gritting her teeth through the wave of pain, blinking at her swimming vision. A hand took her wrist-and then twisted her arm viciously behind her. Her attacker's other arm snaked around her chest, positioning the point of a gleaming knife over her heart.

"Come back down here, or by the First Egg, I'll kill her!" the woman shouted. Arryn gritted her teeth and snarled in wordless rage and helplessness.

Vell heard the golden-haired woman's voice as through a haze. She recognized it. She had heard it raised in such anger and indignation before. Finneseth, too...she had rejected that voice, that pride and scorn. For a moment she was back on the Hatching Grounds, soles of her feet burning as she pushed through the throng of candidates, following a golden-haired girl whose imperious air boded ill. The girl who had snarled in rage when she had been rejected by Finneseth, by Vell's own dear heart.

Siena.

_We must go_, Finneseth said, her voice a mixture of anger and firmness and sadness. The great queen's loyalties were torn. Her dam and the rider of her dam were in danger, but so were her own rider and her own unborn.

Arryn twisted her head enough to see that Vell was hesitating. Blast it all, hadn't she been clear enough? Was the girl addled enough to fall for it a second time? She gathered herself, pushing aside Maventh's pain and her own, reaching for Finneseth's mind.

Arryn's mental command resounded through Finneseth, into Vell's mind, reverberating and echoing with such force that Vell was dizzy with it. _Go_, Arryn said. _Not for me, but for Benden._

Finneseth bugled to her dam, one last cry of longing and love laced with anger and regret. Vell grabbed for the riding straps, feeling her face twist with the helpless rage and pain roaring within her. "No!" she cried, but Finneseth took them _between,_ the cold biting into her bones with the finality of death.

Arryn let out a breath of relief as she saw Finneseth blink out. They were safe. She had done her duty to Benden, one last time. The knife-point pressed over her heart, hard enough to break the skin. Maventh, struggling to stay aloft, sent her an overwhelming wave of emotion, washing Arryn in her unreserved love, her complete and total trust. Arryn felt tears building behind her eyes at the nobility of her beautiful dragon, her Maventh, her soul. She closed her eyes and relaxed, awaiting the plunge of the knife.

Instead, the woman behind her hissed in frustration and wrenched her arm painfully. The dagger, though, disappeared. The bronze dragon, overhead, pulled back from circling the wounded green dragon. Arryn lifted her head, confused. The bronze dragon landed, his rider languorously dismounting. As he approached, Arryn felt the strongest wave of dislike-she was almost certain it was hatred-rise up in her, gagging her with its intensity. She had never hated anyone before. It was a new sensation, one that made her sick, and suddenly she knew how hate could twist a person, make their souls black and ugly with the thought of revenge. With an effort, she pushed it down, focusing instead on comforting Maventh, bolstering her as she glided painfully overhead, assessing the situation.

The woman shoved Arryn at the bronze-rider, who caught her and pinned her arms again easily, despite her brief attempt to struggle. "Now, now, none of that," he said into her ear. The feel of his warm breath upon her skin sickened her. But she raised her head and with a jolt recognized the woman in front of her. A few Turns older, yes, but it was the girl who had tried to impress Finneseth...and then caused the uproar with Rija's green Warith. What in Faranth's name was she doing?

The woman's proud, beautiful face twisted as she snarled at the bronze-rider, "I cannot believe this! We had them, and then you let them go!"

"My lady," said the bronze-rider, twisting Arryn's arm a bit more, "this one was not part of the plan."

"Well," the woman said with biting scorn, "that's the thing about plans, isn't it? You are supposed to _think_ about what _could _ go wrong!"

"I am sorry," the bronze-rider said softly.

Why did this bronze-rider bow in such deference to this...this _woman_, this _harlot_? Arryn found her mind substituting the unkindest words possible to describe the woman whose name escaped her, but whose face would now be burned into her memory forever.

"Lady Siena," said the bronze-rider, "what shall we do now?"

Siena pushed her full lips together and narrowed her icy blue eyes. "Well. I certainly will _not_ settle for this..._green_. So I suppose we have to bargain with them. Lure her back. It was easy enough, with that stupid little blue."

Arryn glared with unrestrained fury at the woman that she now knew was responsible for the separation of blue Parnileth and his rider. Then, with horrible clarity, she realized why the woman had wanted to capture Finneseth and Vell. "You wanted to separate them," she breathed.

"Oh, look," Siena said with a horridly false, sweet voice, "the green-rider figured it all out. Sweetheart, don't trouble yourself, I won't bother with a green."

Arryn tried to lunge at Siena, but the bronze-rider subdued her with a brutal twist. She felt something give with a faint crackling noise in her wrist, but her anger pushed back the pain she knew was lurking under the surface. A noise of pure rage escaped from her lips. Maventh roared from above them, her mother-instinct rearing.

"Come. Let us walk while I think," Siena said, quite unconcernedly. "I could even answer your questions, if you like."

Arryn gritted her teeth together.

"Oh, now," Siena said in irritation. "I will answer the questions I _know_ are on your mind, then." They started walking across the grass, toward the base of the mountains, which were, Arryn realized with a sinking feeling, much closer than they had initially seemed. Pain was starting to ebb up from her wrist, sneaking nauseating tendrils up her arm. She blinked against the black spots that suddenly darkened her vision. With Vell gone, some of the adrenaline had receded. She could feel her strength waning, but she drew her shoulders back, looking ahead at the grim base of the mountains.

She had been a Weyrwoman of Benden, once, and, by the First Egg, she would meet her end as one.


	20. Chapter 20

**I feel as though, first and foremost, I should make a sincere apology for letting this story percolate for so long. Thank you to all those who messaged me insisting that Arryn and Vell's stories had to be finished, absence of muses be damned. And I will waste no more of your time...I hope you enjoy, the last of it should be coming up in short order. **

**~Arwyn**

Arryn fought back another wave of dizziness as the rogue bronze-rider hauled her after Siena none too gently. At every jar and bump, flames of pain shot up her wrist, into her elbow and shoulder. She could feel things grating against each other, and she tried not to think about it. Instead, she reached out for Maventh, her dearest, her heart. She knew that Siena had the means to sever the link between rider and dragon, so she clung to the feel of Maventh, the magnificent green splendor of her dragon.

Maventh flew slowly above them, giving small sounds of anger every now and again. The rogue bronze dragon shadowed her—no doubt to make sure that the large-as-a-brown green didn't try to do anything heroic. The gesture meant that Siena and her whipped bronze-rider still thought Maventh was a threat, even with a wounded wing; and the thought gave Arryn a fierce satisfaction that burned away some of the pain-fog gathering behind her eyes. She took a breath. "So, your grand scheme is to separate us?"

"No, no, my dear," Siena cooed infuriatingly. "You obviously haven't been listening. I want nothing to do with a green. That would be…absurd." She cocked her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced at Arryn, still walking toward the mountains. "Although it would be quite entertaining to break that unruly green of yours. It took G'vral a few days to master Zakanth."

Arryn took in Siena's statement and felt her mind fitting the new information into the puzzle. "Why did you separate Parnileth and his rider then?" she demanded, desperate now to keep the cruel woman talking.

"I had to test the elixir on someone," Siena replied in a reasonable tone. "After so much work, it would have been simply awful to have it not work properly."

"What elixir?" Arryn asked, her voice sounding breathy to even her own ears. The bronze-rider—if truly he was the dragon's rider—twisted her arm a bit more.

"My lady," he said to Siena in his strange, gruff voice. "I do not think it would be wise to trust your secrets to this woman."

"Don't presume to tell me what is wise, G'vral," Siena snapped, her eyes blazing with irrational fury. "And just for that, I will tell all right here." She smiled again, primly, folding her legs and sitting on a grassy hillock. "Please, do have a seat."

G'vral shoved Arryn down onto the ground. She refused to make a sound as white-hot lances of pain shot up her arm and into her chest, constricting her lungs. After taking a deep breath and smoothing her face into a blank mask, she looked up and met Siena's blue eyes. There was a terrible glint in them, something twisted and wrong and hateful that Arryn couldn't begin to understand. She realized she didn't want to understand. All she wanted was to survive and ride Maventh again in the clear blue of the Benden sky, the wind whipping out her hair behind her like a flame. The nobility of a well-met death suddenly seemed hollow, especially at the hands of a woman who had no right to lay a hand on a dragon-rider.

_She was Searched for my eggs_, Maventh said suddenly, pausing in her slow whorls in the sky. _The hateful woman. My daughter sensed it even then. That is why she was not chosen. Vell was chosen._

Realization dawned on Arryn. The pieces started to fall together.

"Ah, now you're starting to understand," Siena purred, leaning forward across the space between them.

"You were Searched for the Hatching of Maventh's eggs," Arryn stated. She watched Siena's reaction.

Siena sat back a bit. "Oh, yes. I was Searched, I walked across the hot sands, and I even laid my bare hand on the curve of the golden shell." Her eyes began to shine with a maniacal fervor. "I _felt_ her, when she was in her shell, the little white-gold queen, and I _knew_ that she was supposed to be mine. _Mine_."

Arryn smiled coolly. "But she chose Vell instead."

"She made a mistake," Siena replied hotly, her face twisted.

_She chose well_, Maventh commented from above, the bronze dragon still trailing behind her.

Arryn kept her face blank. She needed more time. _Maventh, love, see if you can reach Ereth or Baerth or Plenneth. Someone. Anyone who might help._

_I have no desire to bring pain to them, _Maventh replied after a moment. _Ugly things will happen. It is better if they do not see._

Her dragon's foreboding words bit into Arryn's mind, making her heart jump. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. _We could find out how she separated Parnileth and Sh'let. Maybe they can be healed. _

_I will tell them, if we find out. But I will not ask them to put themselves in danger for us, _Maventh said. _I will fight to the death to protect you. I will not let them take you while I am still alive._

Arryn's heart twisted. She forced herself to keep her expression impassive. "So how did you do it?" she asked Siena calmly, unable to help the small bit of pride that welled up in her chest at the sound of her cool, collected voice.

"Oh, the little blue?" Siena smiled. "He was our first try. We didn't get the formula quite right. After, with G'vral, well, obviously it worked."

A chill ran down Arryn's spine. This maniacal woman somehow held the power to sever the deepest bonds of love. The thought made her nauseous. "And how exactly did you find this formula?"

Siena preened, sitting back and smiling, her eyes gleaming with pride. "The queen made a mistake when she didn't choose me. So I…I found another way." Her eyes narrowed. "You aren't as clever as I was told, green-rider. I would have thought you might have been able to piece it together by now. After all, the bond between human and dragon was man-made, engineered by the scientists that realized we needed protection on Pern." Her smile widened. "And if it was created by man, it's almost certain that man made a way to destroy it, reverse it."

All of a sudden, Arryn heard her little cousin at the table in Ruatha, telling her seriously about Kitty Ping. Kitty Ping…the scientists…her eyes widened. "Kitty Ping had a failsafe."

"Oh, there now, it took you a little longer but you've got it now," purred Siena. "With G'vral's help, I found the old parchments. It was just fragments, really, passed down and passed down again. But I…_persuaded_…some healers to help me."

Arryn sat perfectly still. The only evidence of her fear and rage was the slight trembling of her good hand. _Maventh. They…they know how to separate dragons and their riders, and force the dragons to obey another rider._

Maventh made a small sound of disgust and loathing. _They are worthless. No more than slaves to their own petty desires. Let me kill them._

_I have to find out if there is a way to save Parnileth and Sh'let_, Arryn replied. She felt Maventh acquiesce.

"How do you ensure that the dragon doesn't go _between_?" she asked tightly. "When you separate them."

"Hope is a cruel thing sometimes," Siena said silkily. "If you keep the rider alive, the dragon…even though there is little possibility that we would allow such a thing, they hope, as long as their rider lives."

A terrible thought formed in Arryn's mind. _Mav, do you think the bronze's rider…his real rider…do you think he's still alive?_

_Perhaps you should ask. My wing hurts, _Maventh stated.

Arryn sent Maventh a reassuring wave of love. She took a deep breath. "So how do you put the dragon with another rider?"

Siena smiled. "The elixir overpowers the dragon's will. They have no choice but to obey their new master."

"Their new master?" Arryn couldn't help but shake her head in disgust. "If you think you would be Finneseth's mistress…she'd tear you to pieces before she'd let you command her." A thought occurred to her. She reached out to the rogue bronze's mind, felt again that numbing, overpowering hatred…but as she waded through it, she sensed pain and confusion, anger that was not directed at her. She wasn't sure, but she thought that the tentative control G'vral had over the bronze would allow her to speak to the dragon unnoticed.

_Zakanth_, she said, her mental voice soft and gentle, reassuring. _I am Maventh's rider, and I would like to help you._

The hatred receded a little. She focused on keeping her eyes on Siena's—not an easy task, but she couldn't afford to let the woman know that she was speaking to the rogue bronze…who, she thought, wasn't a rogue at all, but a prisoner.

_I know what they have done to you_, she told Zakanth, _and it angers me as well. Is your rider alive?_

In place of words, she received an aerial image of Siena and G'vral, dragging a limp form between them, toward the mountains. A terrible sorrow and uncertainty overwhelmed her—Zakanth knew that something terrible was going to happen, and he was helpless as long as they had his rider, for he could never do anything to hurt his T'lanil. Layered over the sorrow was shame…shame that Zakanth had not been able to protect his rider. She realized that the bronze was actually quite young…old enough to have flown in a mating flight, but not as old as Maventh or even Finneseth. Perhaps that would work to her advantage.

_I am a Weyrwoman of Benden_, she told him, _and I pledge by my life that I will help you in whatever way I can before they kill me._

Zakanth seemed to accept her statement, despite the fact that he was trailing a green dragon in large loops around the sky.

_If you help us, we may be able to find T'lanil, and end this,_ she told Zakanth. _We will fight, Maventh and I. If you cannot help us, then at least do your best not to hurt Maventh._ She waited for Zakanth's answer.

"So," she said to Siena, "you make dragons slaves. Was that how you planned to become a Weyrwoman? You really thought Finneseth—or any queen—would have let you have power over her Weyr simply because you had power over her?"

Siena's eyes glittered. "That remains to be seen." She reached into her sash and took out her own dagger, the golden pommel set with a blue stone that matched her eyes. Idly pricking one of her own fingers, she watched a fat scarlet drop well up from her pale skin, licking it away with a feral grin.

_I will help you_, Zakanth said, his voice faint, like a whisper. _I cannot promise anything but I will do anything to free myself from this….and perhaps see T'naril, one last time…._

"Hm," Arryn said noncommittally. "If you gave the serum again to the dragon, and then to his original rider, would that restore the bond?"

Siena grinned wickedly. "Trying even now to help your poor little blue and his rider, eh? I haven't tried it. Theoretically though, it could work. Though I don't think you'll be able to tell anyone that information, since you'll soon be dead."

"As you like," Arryn said softly, not able to help the small smile that played upon her own lips as G'vral—Givral, probably, since he wasn't a proper rider anyway—hauled her to her feet roughly, his grip bruising her arm. She strained her eyes as they approached the mountain's base, looking for the entrance to the tunnel.

_Do not let them take you under the mountain! _Maventh said suddenly._ We cannot find Zakanth's rider if we are dead!_

_I don't know if we'll be able to find him if I don't see where he is first,_ Arryn replied worriedly.

_You cannot find him if you are dead,_ Maventh repeated, unable to keep the fear from her voice.

Arryn took a deep breath and tried to keep from stumbling as Givral shoved her forward. She looked again…there! Blinking to clear her eyes, she made sure of what she had seen: an inconspicuous, chest-high hole in the side of the mountain, partially hidden by brush and large rocks. That _had _to be the entrance to the tunnels. She looked up as Maventh let out a bugle of fear and love.

All right. She took another breath. Givral first…he had her knife, and he was larger than her, and that was the real danger. He had a grip on her upper arm, not her wrist, so she could deal with the pain. _All right, love_, she said to Maventh, _here we go. _

_Wait—_Maventh started, turning her head as she sensed _something_— _someone _familiar, just a breath away from sliding out from _between_, their minds fuddled with the cold of the jump—

But it was too late. Arryn had already committed herself to the plan she had laid out in her mind. She went absolutely limp, falling to the ground with one Givral's grip on her arm keeping her upright. Givral cursed, letting go of her arm and bending down to pick her up. She lashed out with her elbow, driving it backwards with all the force she could muster, hitting him squarely on the nose. She felt the bone give with a crack, and in the moment that Givral staggered backward she swung the side of her clenched fist at his temple. He fell to his knees, and she drove her knee into his chin. Siena was screaming something—Arryn felt Maventh flying as fast as she could, staying ahead of Zakanth, who was doing his best not to obey his violent orders from Givral.

Then, all at once, Arryn felt three familiar minds explode into existence, rage coursing through their thoughts. It was Baerth and Ereth and Plenneth! She felt a strange exultation—it made her pause for a bare second—and then she felt a peculiar thrust and numbness against her shoulder-blade, the same side as her ruined wrist. She turned, feeling across her shoulder with her good hand and gazing at fingers that came away scarlet. Siena stood with her upraised dagger, blood darkening the blade, teeth bared in a maniacal grin. Above them, Ereth let out a roar of rage—Arryn thought dully that she'd never heard a sound so full of anger and the promise of retribution. Baerth and Plenneth echoed Ereth's anger with their own voices. Ereth launched himself at Zakanth while Plenneth flew close to Maventh, touching her neck in reassurance—and Baerth swooped low, Lira leaping off his neck when he was still airborne, landing on her feet with a practiced grace, dagger already flashing in her hand. "Arryn!" she shouted, sprinting toward her.

Time slowed. Arryn saw Siena throw a glance at Lira. Then she looked at Givral, who was still struggling to get up from the ground.

_They are here, they are here, you must fight!_ Maventh said in her mind insistently, pulling her back from the brink of darkness. Gritting her teeth, she bent and picked up the dagger from where Givral had dropped it, hefting it in her blood-slick palm. She stood as tall as she was able, feeling warmth slide down her back. Anger warmed her chest. "Come and taste a real rider's blade," she snarled at Siena, "instead of capturing them with snares and trickery."

Lira dove past Arryn and tackled Givral as he was rising from the ground, about to snake his arm around Arryn's neck from behind. Arryn stepped forward. Siena gave a wordless shriek of anger, her voice edged with madness. Arryn heard the muffled cry of Givral as he lost his struggle with quick, agile Lira.

Siena threw herself at Arryn, her own dagger raised high. Lira turned, roughly yanking her blade free of Givral's lifeless body.

Arryn stood dangerously still, hearing her own blood pounding in her ears as she watched the glittering arc of Siena's dagger as it arced down toward her neck. She heard a strangled cry of apprehension and fear from Lira. At the last possible second, she stepped aside, twisting her body away from Siena and driving her own dagger upwards. She felt a cold line on her good shoulder, but she also felt her own blade driving home, grating against bone as it slicing through Siena's flesh. The scream died on the woman's lips, trailing into a gasping gurgle. Lira wrested the dagger from Siena's frozen hand. Arryn pulled her blade free, staggering back as Siena crumpled to the ground. She heard Maventh pleading with Zakanth to stay, not to slide _between_.

_We will find your rider, we will help you, do not despair, do not give in, _the green dragon said, flying now toward the darkly mottled bronze. She had explained to Baerth and Ereth and Plenneth, checked their tide of rage before they had hurt Zakanth.

Arryn swayed on her feet. Her fingers went numb as she lost feeling in her shoulder. She felt Lira's solid, warm body beside her, supporting her. She had to tell them about Zakanth's rider…trapped in the tunnels beneath the mountain…Forcing her eyes open, she looked earnestly at Lira. "You have…to find him," she managed. "The real…rider. He's alive…in the tunnels."

Lira lowered her gently to the ground a safe distance away from the bodies of Siena and Givral, keeping Arryn's torso upright with a firm grip on her arm, trying to ignore the soft sound of pain that escaped her friend's lips. She started unlacing Arryn's riding vest, mouth set in a grim line. Arryn reached up with her good hand and stilled Lira's fingers.

"You have to find him," she insisted. "His name…is T'naril, and we have to help him. I promised Zakanth. I _promised_."

"Shards," Lira said quietly, glimpsing the ugly slash of the stab-wound on Arryn's back.

"Have to…find him," Arryn gritted out, trying to rise. She heard running footfalls, and then T'ran's worried, horrified voice.

"Arryn!"

She didn't have the energy to turn her head. Instead she looked into her best friend's eyes, trying to convey the urgency of her request. "Please. They can be…put back together. We have to try."

Lira nodded quickly, fear in her eyes. "All right. Where is he?"

T'ran was beside her now, on his knees, taking off his riding vest and then his tunic, tearing a strip from it and pressing it hard against the back of her shoulder. She fought a rising tide of blackness. She had to tell Lira. "In the tunnels. The entrance…over there."

Lira looked over her shoulder at T'ran, and then nodded silently. "All right. H'rath and I will find him."

Arryn leaned back against T'ran as Lira stood and ran in the direction of the cave's entrance. It felt so good to close her eyes…Maventh spoke to her insistently, but the words faded in and out, warping and twisting in her mind. She couldn't understand. She heard Maventh bugling. Why was she so upset? Arryn wondered. She was just tired…

"Stay awake," T'ran said into her ear, gripping her jaw roughly with his free hand. His voice was low and tense with an emotion she hadn't heard before. "Arryn, listen to me, stay awake!"

She felt him shift his grip, keeping pressure on her shoulder while he slid his other arm under her knees. With a grunt, he picked her up, cradling her against his chest. "Listen to me, please, Arryn. Open your eyes for me. Look at me. We're going back to the Weyr. You'll be all right…you'll be all right….Shards…"

She felt his heart thundering against her ear, the quick breaths he was taking. He was upset. She didn't want him to be upset…so she struggled to open her eyes, and succeeded, blinking up at him as he slid in and out of focus. A breeze brushed her face.

"That's it…" With a great effort, he cradled her with just one arm, wincing at her cry of pain, using his other arm to pull himself onto Ereth's neck. "Hold on, Arryn," he said desperately as Ereth launched himself from the ground with a great leap. Two wingstrokes, and he had the picture of Benden in his head. Gripping Arryn tightly, hoping he could shield her from some of the numb of _between_, he gave a mental nod to Ereth, thinking before they slid into blackness that he never wanted to see the hills of High Reaches again.


	21. Chapter 21

**All right. No apologies can cover the unacceptable amount of time that has passed since I updated this story. But suffice it to say that real life threw me a curveball over the past year, and if it weren't for the insistence of a few of you, my awesome, amazing readers, I might have just let sleeping dogs (or dragons, as the case may be) lie. However, here is another chapter. We aren't quite to the end yet, but rest assured that there won't be another agonizingly long wait til the end. Thank you so, so, so much for those of you that are still somehow, miraculously, with me. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and humbly accepted.**

**-Arwen**

"Shards," Lira breathed shakily. She pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes, shuddering as her mind involuntarily replayed the feeling of her blade sliding into the flesh of the man who had been attacking Arryn, trying to kill her best friend. In the background, she heard Plenneth crooning soothingly to the separated bronze. Baerth spread his wings for balance and covered the distance between his rider and himself in one small, awkward hop. Lira stifled a watery chuckle.

_I am not a runner-beast,_ Baerth reminded her, pretending to be affronted but really just relieved that she was all right, that Arryn was safe, that no Benden blood had been spilled. The blue extended one wing and used the delicate membrane to gather Lira against him. Lira allowed herself to be herded away from the cooling bodies of Siena and the horrible fake-rider who had tried to kill Arryn. She pressed her face against Baerth's warm hide. He rumbled and lowered his great triangular head until she felt his breath upon her face. In moments like this they did not even need to touch minds for her to feel how much Baerth loved her, adored her—more than a man would love his sister or his lover or even his mother. Lira did not hide the fact that she knew her dragon loved her more than H'rath ever could; and H'rath had his Plenneth, so all was even. They still loved each other, no doubt about that; it was just a fact of life that the bond between rider and dragon ran deeper than two people could ever try to replicate. Lira's heart ached fiercely as Zakanth let out a desperate, sad, furious bellow. She rubbed her cheek against Baerth's nose once, and then nodded to him. He lifted his wing as she squared her shoulders.

Plenneth coaxed Zakanth down, landing delicately beside the frantic bronze. H'rath slid down the green dragon's neck. Next to both Baerth and Zakanth, she looked like a much younger dragon, despite the fact that she had Turns more experience than them both.

Lira strode over to meet H'rath. She let him kiss her once hard on the mouth, and then she pushed away from him, walking purposefully toward the mountains.

"Lira," said H'rath with a question in his voice. He was following her though; he had long ago learned that if he was to be her weyrmate, he had to understand that she was direct and impossible at times.

"Arryn made me promise that I would find Zakanth's rider," Lira said briskly, still striding toward the rocky face. "Those horrible people had him hostage, used him as leverage to keep his dragon from going _between_ after they were separated." Without slowing, she turned and looked at H'rath. "Somehow they can be put back together."

H'rath took a deep breath. In all his years as a rider, he had never seen anything like the cruel and twisted evil of Siena and the dead would-be rider; then again, he thought with a wry half-smile, his years as a rider had been fairly uneventful before he had Searched Arryn, and before Maventh, and before Lira…

Lira stopped abruptly. "Maybe one of us should stay with Zakanth. To make sure."

H'rath grinned at her. "You think I'm going to let you go in there alone, woman? By the First Egg, there isn't anything we could say that Baerth and Plenneth can't say better anyway."

Lira nodded. "True." And with no more thought to that, she continued her march toward the now-close rock face.

It took them a moment to locate the awkward opening into the tunnels. Partially obscured by brush and scree, the hole was about waist-high, and when H'rath stood next to it the top of the opening was almost level with his head. Lira fervently hoped that the tunnel widened so that she could at least stand and not crawl.

They gathered some of the brush and bound it together with a small strip from H'rath's tunic, winding a larger piece of cloth about the top to serve as a makeshift torch. "What I wouldn't give for a glow-lantern right now," grumbled H'rath as they debated whether Baerth or Plenneth had enough firestone left in their stomach to light the torch for them.

"Well," said Lira contemplatively, "they probably do have them." Leaving H'rath with the makeshift torch held in one hand, she scrambled through the opening, sliding on her belly until she disappeared. H'rath dropped the bunch of sticks, rushing to the opening. Lira's face appeared, grinning; she triumphantly held aloft a lantern that emanated a soft glow. "See?" she said. And without waiting for him to answer, she disappeared again.

"Shards," H'rath muttered to himself, "why'd I have to choose the crazy one…"

Baerth rumbled.

"All right, the _slightly_ crazy one," H'rath amended as he hoisted himself through the hole. The stone scraped his hands a bit, but not enough to bleed; and he found that the tunnel sloped down enough for him to get his feet underneath and stand up. Overall, it was quite roomy. Lira stood a few paces down the tunnel, the glow from the lantern making the sandy stone of the walls glimmer.

"What are you waiting for?" she said impatiently, clearly on edge.

"Lead the way," he replied.

He followed closely behind Lira as she padded noiselessly down the tunnel. There were several branches. Each time, Lira cautiously explored the branch-off, dagger in one hand and lantern in the other; and then she returned to H'rath, shaking her head. After the third branch-off, she paused, eyes unfocused as she bespoke Baerth. And then she said, "Zakanth is getting anxious. We have to find him soon." With that, she handed the lantern to H'rath, cupped one hand around her mouth and shouted, "T'naril! T'naril, we are here to help you! Zakanth needs you!"

They stood silently, straining their ears for a sound beyond the echoes of Lira's voice. And then Lira heard it—no more than a faint sound, something she could barely recognize as a human voice—but it was there and she seized H'rath's arm, running toward the sound.

They rounded a branch that sloped down to the left and stopped. Before them was a crude cell, the bars fashioned from sturdy branches wedged against the rock floor and ceiling. There was enough room between the bars to push through a chunk of bread or a dipper of water, but that was all. There was no door, only the bars and the half-circle indentation in the wall that had been fenced off into T'naril's prison.

Lira made a wordless sound of rage and closed her eyes for a moment as she saw T'naril for the first time. He was a few Turns younger than she, but he looked ten Turns older. He had been a broad-shouldered, muscular young man, she could tell from his now-emaciated frame; his cheeks were sunken and his eyes were haunted. Her heart broke for him. But she also felt a fierce exultation. They had found him. He was alive.

"We're here to help you," she said gently, trying to smooth the rage from her voice. Her words came out husky but soft.

T'naril's haunted eyes spoke of a hunger that she hoped never to experience. "Zakanth?" he whispered. It was clear that if his dragon was dead, he would die as well.

Lira knelt and reached between the bars and took the young rider's hand in her own, feeling the sharpness of his knuckles through the skin. She squeezed his hand earnestly. "Zakanth is alive."

A spark appeared in T'naril's eyes, but he still gazed at her warily. "Siena? Givral?" He spoke the names with such hate that Lira felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Hate rightfully placed, and yet it frightened her still.

"Look," H'rath said suddenly from behind her.

Without relinquishing T'naril's cold hand, Lira turned to look at H'rath. He held a wooden box in his hands, about two hands-breadths deep and four across. The lid hinged upward. He tilted the box forward so she could see its contents. Nestled inside on a bed of carefully folded linen were half a dozen ampoules: devices used by healers that Lira had only seen twice in her life. The Weyr healers used numbweed and other natural remedies; they saw little need to bother the glass-blowers with such a complicated little project. There were a few around, but their use was widely disdained.

Each ampoule was composed of a delicate glass tube, completely open on one end and rounded at the other, with a small hole for the long, wicked needle nestled in its own compartment to one side of the box. Lira saw that next to the needle, there was a kind of plug that she surmised would press down on the liquid in the tube, forcing it through the hollow needle. She shuddered. Who would waste time devising such a torturously delicate device? And what to what ends had that horrible woman resorted when she had procured the formula for the liquid, and the means by which to inject it?

"See if there's instructions," Lira said to H'rath quietly. She felt T'naril's hand tighten upon hers as he glimpsed the ampoules. She looked down at him to find him staring, tight-lipped, at the ampoules.

"That's what she used," he whispered. "That's what she used to take away Zakanth." A horrible sorrow shone in his hazel eyes.

"You listen to me, T'naril," Lira said fiercely, clasping his hand with both of her own, "Zakanth _is not gone_. He's still alive. He's still fighting to get back to you, and I swear by the First Egg that we'll do all we can to make sure that happens."

T'naril closed his eyes for a moment. Then he nodded. "Thank you," he said hoarsely.

"H'rath, let's get him out of here," Lira said, anger blazing through her eyes as she stood, giving T'naril's hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it.

Together, she and H'rath managed to remove two of the sturdy branches from their places. The space was enough for Lira to slip through. She ignored the unwashed sickly smell emanating from the young rider. He was too weak to stand up on his own; she slipped under his arm and helped him up, handing him through the bars to H'rath. H'rath glanced at the box with the ampoules and Lira nodded, picking it up and following behind H'rath and T'naril as they made their way toward the entrance of the tunnels.

Their trek back to the tunnel's entrance was long and arduous, taking more than three times as long as it had taken Lira and H'rath to discover T'naril. Even the mild exertion clearly took its toll on T'naril. He clearly tried to muster enough strength to make it to the entrance—but his face greyed, beads of sweat standing out on his brow. Lira saw his knees weakening. "H'rath, set him down," she said hurriedly, carefully placing the wooden box containing the ampoules on the ground.

H'rath lowered T'naril so that he was sitting against the wall. Lira set the lantern down. She dug in her flight vest and pulled out a carefully wrapped packet of sweet-bread. "What?" she asked H'rath innocently.

"You always carry a snack for Fall?" he asked with one eyebrow raised. She scowled at him playfully.

"A girl's gotta eat," she said. Then her face became serious as she knelt by T'naril. "Here." She pressed a small piece into the young rider's hand, but his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't even lift the bread to his mouth. Taking the piece from him, she fed him patiently, piece by piece, taking care to maintain a businesslike air because she knew as well as anyone the sting of a stranger's pity. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed H'rath taking out a many-times-folded piece of parchment from his vest. He opened it carefully, brow creasing as he read the contents in the dim light of the glow-lantern.

T'naril sighed as Lira gave him another piece of bread. He leaned his head back against the wall and took a deep breath. Lira saw his lower lip trembling. "H'rath," she said quietly, "would you meet us at the entrance, please?" She glanced at the parchment and said pointedly, "There's better reading light out there."

H'rath gave her a long look, then nodded and picked up the box with the ampoules and headed toward the entrance, sure enough of his way that he did not need a glow-lantern to light his path.

Lira watched her weyr-mate go. She settled down closer to T'naril, giving him another piece of bread. He chewed it slowly, eyes downcast. "T'naril," she said softly, surprised at how gently and motherly her own voice could sound, "it's all right. You're safe now."

T'naril let out a huge, shuddering breath, looking down determinedly as tears coursed down his face. He clenched his shaking hands in his lap. His gaunt face tightened as he clenched his jaw.

"I can't imagine what you've been through," Lira continued quietly. She heard her own voice shaking, and as she imagined the pain of being separated from Baerth, just the thought of it closed her throat with sorrow. So instead of trying to speak, she offered T'naril her water-skin. He took it and slowly drank, the sounds of his swallowing the only thing breaking the silence. Lira took care not to watch him, resting her elbows loosely on her knees and staring into the dusky shadows beyond the glow of their lantern.

T'naril handed her back an almost-dry water skin. She took it and hooked it back into its loop on her belt.

"Thank you," T'naril said, his voice still hoarse but a little stronger. Lira looked at him and he didn't look away. He held her eyes, even as his own filled up with tears. "I didn't think…anyone was coming."

Lira took a breath and swallowed. "The…two people….that had you, they tried to kidnap Benden's queen. The rider of Finneseth's dam Maventh is my best friend. So…" She shrugged. "That's how I got here. Arryn made me promise to find you. She found out from Zakanth that you were still alive. So don't thank me, thank her, when you see her."

T'naril nodded shakily, and hitched a breath. He started shaking again. "Sorry…I don't usually…I'm not…" He struggled to find words, and struggled even more to say them.

"There's no shame," Lira said softly but fiercely. "You survived when many others probably would not." Her fierce expression softened as T'naril leaned back against the wall, and the tremors worsened, his teeth chattering. She reached out to Baerth, told him the reaction of the young rider. _I don't know what to do, Baerth._

_ It is too much for him to handle,_ Baerth replied. _He lost almost all hope, and everything changed very suddenly. His body is weak and his mind is overwhelmed._

_ Some advice you give_, Lira retorted, feeling a small measure of panic as T'naril seemed to be lost in his own world, clenching his eyes shut against the shivers wracking his body.

After a moment, Baerth replied, _Plenneth said he is probably in shock. She says he needs warmth_, the blue added with a devilish tone.

Lira rolled her eyes. _Just make sure that Zakanth is all right_.

"T'naril?" she said aloud. He opened his eyes and looked at her with such pain that the rest of her words died on her lips. She shifted and leaned forward, sliding her arms around him. For a brief moment he stiffened, resisting, and then with a strangled sound he leaned into her, as if he had forgotten the feeling of another's touch. She held him tightly, and after a while his tremors quieted to occasional shivers.

"I can't remember…the last time I was warm," T'naril said into her shoulder. Lira rubbed his back in soothing circles.

_Since when are you the mothering type_? Baerth asked pointedly.

_Since this poor rider needs me to be_, she replied.

_I was saying it in jest_, the blue replied with a hint of penitence.

Lira swallowed. _I know, love, I do. It's just…this is hard for me to deal with too. Can you reach Maventh or Finneseth, to see how Arryn is doing? _Her chest constricted with cold dread as she thought of the terrible wound Arryn had suffered at the hands of Siena.

_I shall try, if you wish it_, Baerth replied heavily. _H'rath wishes to know when he may come back, or if you can manage to get to the entrance with the rider on your own._

"T'naril," Lira said gently, "do you think you can walk?"

T'naril nodded into her shoulder, but made no move to shift his position.

"Are you sure?" the blue-rider prompted.

With a sigh, the younger rider lifted his head from her shoulder. "Can't a man who was captive enjoy the embrace of a beautiful woman for just one more minute?" he said with half a smile. And even though his voice was hoarse and his face was gaunt, there was a spark in his eyes that warmed Lira's heart. Then she shook herself.

"Oh, don't you go getting ideas," she told him. He half-smiled again but made no reply. She shook her head and smiled. "Come on then."

He sat back and she stood, and with only a little bit of help from Lira, T'naril was soon on his feet. Declining her offer of help, he set his jaw and walked beside her down the passageway. As they made their way toward the entrance, only a little slower than the pace Lira would have set if she were by herself, Lira felt Baerth touch her mind tentatively, as he did when he wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what he had to say. Dread clenched her stomach again.

_Yes?_ she asked the blue.

_Arryn made it to Benden, Finneseth says,_ Baerth told her, but the grim tone of his words checked any jubilation she felt over the news.

_But…?_ she prompted.

_But they are not sure whether she will survive,_ Baerth said heavily. _Maventh's wing is torn badly as well, and the dragon-healers are not sure whether she will fly again, if Arryn does not die._

_ She won't,_ Lira said fiercely. _Don't you even say that, Baerth. Don't ever say that._

At the flash of her anger, the blue sent her a wave of affection and reassurance, tinged with sadness. Lira set her jaw and pushed away the grief choking her throat. T'naril stumbled, and she reached out to help him, letting the care of the young bronze-rider distract her.

Vell stood when the door of the healing-chamber opened. Finneseth, outside on the ledge, crooned comfort to Maventh as the dragon-healer Norin pieced together the green dragon's wing, a needle and thread in his deft fingers. Ereth, curled around the other side of Maventh protectively, rumbled low in his chest. If an observer were watching, they might almost think that the bronze was rumbling warningly at Finneseth. Vell knew it in the corner of her mind, but she was too tired and distraught to care.

Sh'len, the brown-rider that was so close to Arryn and T'ran, emerged from the open door. He saw her standing close to the wall, arms crossed protectively over her chest; and his mouth tightened. "You should go," he said, his voice strained.

"How..." Her voice broke. Vell cleared her throat and tried again. "How is she?"

Sh'len didn't answer, looking at her with hard eyes that were just short of hostile.

"Please," Vell said.

"You are Weyrwoman," he said tightly. "You can go see for yourself, if you so choose. No-one can stop you."

She swallowed and looked down. "I know. I know that. But I also know that it's my fault that Arryn was in danger in the first place, and I don't know if I could bear it if…"

"If she dies?" Sh'len said caustically, his normally calm and controlled voice rising in anger. He shook his head. "You are Weyrwoman of Benden Weyr," he said again. Then, with eyes hard as flint, he said, "Our last Weyrwoman wasn't perfect. No-one is. But at least she didn't run away from her mistakes."

The words, and the contempt behind them, stung Vell more than a physical slap. She raised her chin. "I'm not running away, Sh'len," she said firmly, ironing out the tremor in her voice by sheer force of will.

The brown-rider looked at her silently until the fast, purposeful tread of another rider approaching broke their gaze. Vell turned to face N'ral.

"The Fall is over, Weyrleader?" Sh'len asked.

"Out of Benden territory, yes," N'ral replied cursorily, but his full attention was focused on Vell. Sh'len inclined his head with stiff courtesy and then walked away, heading for the ledge outside.

As soon as the brown-rider was out of sight, N'ral swept Vell into a tight embrace. He smelled of sweat and smoke and charred Thread, but Vell pressed closer against him.

"Shards," he said shakily, "what were you thinking, Vell?"

"I wasn't," she whispered into the rough wher-hide of his riding vest. "And it's my fault, N'ral. I should be the one lying in there—"

"Don't you say that," N'ral cut her off, holding her at arm's length and shaking her just a little. "Vell, Arryn and Maventh knew perfectly well what they were doing." He shook his head. "Don't demean their sacrifice with self-pity." His voice and eyes softened as he brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. "At least not in front of anybody other than me, all right?"

All she could do was nod, and she buried her face in his shoulder again.

_I must go feed_, Finneseth informed her suddenly, struck by strong hunger.

_Go ahead, love. N'ral is with me,_ Vell replied. Then she looked up at N'ral. "Finneseth wants to go to the hunting grounds."

"Elianth will go with her," N'ral said with a nod, answering Vell's unspoken question. "Do you need to see a healer at all?"

Vell shook her head miserably.

"Then I think it would be best if you rested for a little bit," N'ral suggested gently. Still with his arm around her shoulders, he guided her in the direction of their weyr. Finneseth launched herself from the ledge, followed overhead by her bronze weyrmate, to satiate her anger and blood-lust on the hunting grounds. Vell wished that she could sink her claws into a writhing herd-beast, too—anything to break the hold of soul-numbing shame and worry that had settled onto her shoulders.

"Things will be better after you rest," N'ral said.

She wished she believed him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Almost there! Probably one more chapter after this, dealing of course with our fearless green-rider. Enjoy!**

Lira paused as they made their way down the last stretch of tunnel, feeling the prickle of sweat across her brow. Even though T'naril was gaunt, lacking the muscle that his frame clearly carried before his captivity, he was heavy, and despite his efforts, he leaned more and more on the blue-rider as they progressed.

"Look there, you can see daylight," Lira said encouragingly. T'naril stumbled, falling, and she dropped the glow-lantern as she threw her other arm around him to break his descent.

"Sorry," he gritted out, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper as he tried to gain his footing again.

"No need to apologize," Lira said with a small smile. "Should I call H'rath?"

T'naril gazed ahead, his hazel eyes gaining a sharp focus as he eyed the distance to the tunnel entrance. "No. I can…make it." He took in a breath. "If you help me," he added.

"All right then," she replied, not bothering to pick up the glow lantern. She shifted, pulling his arm over her shoulder and putting her other arm across his back, bracing him with her own body. He was breathing heavily as they started forward again, and his breath came in pants and gasps as they made it to the entrance. T'naril turned his face into the sunlight, closing his eyes as if he had forgotten the feel of its warm rays on his face. Lira let him rest for a moment. He leaned against the rough rock, drinking in the sunlight.

Lira started to reach out to Baerth, asking him to tell Plenneth that they were at the entrance, but then she stopped, realizing that it would be painfully obvious that she had bespoken her dragon when H'rath came to the entrance. She thought again about what it would feel like not to be able to reach out to her own beloved dragon, and cleared her throat.

"H'rath," she called through the entrance, "can you come and help me, please?"

T'naril gave a wan smile. "You're trying so hard not to make me feel…like I need another's help. But…it's all right." He shrugged. "I have no pride left. What else…can a rider lose, after his dragon?"

"You haven't lost Zakanth," Lira reminded him. "If any weyr can figure out how to…how to give you back to each other," she said firmly, finding the words, "Benden can. Benden can, and Benden will."

"Coming," came H'rath's voice from the other side of the entrance.

T'naril eyed the waist-high hole. Lira carefully disentangled herself from the bronze-rider and laced her fingers together into a stirrup. T'naril frowned for a minute but then nodded and took a breath. "Just like riding straps," he said—not self-pityingly, but with a new tone in his voice as he looked at the light streaming in through the entrance. He looked at that light as if he were drowning, and someone had reached into the water to pull him out.

"Well, are you going to stand there all day?" Lira prompted gently. She tensed her shoulders as T'naril slid his foot into her hands, and couldn't help the small sound of effort that escaped her as she helped him reach the entrance.

"I've got you, bronze-rider," she heard H'rath say, and T'naril's weight lessened, and lessened, until H'rath pulled him out the other side. She jumped lightly up, scraping her elbows as she scrabbled for purchase in the slanting entrance, and then H'rath steadied her, his grip on her forearm warm and firm. She heard a strange sound from the bronze dragon as she slithered out into the sunlight, a sound she hadn't ever heard a dragon make before. It sounded partly joyful, and partly full of an incredible grief.

Brushing the stone dust from her riding breeches, she said, "Did you read the parchment?"

H'rath nodded and grinned at her. "I'm not completely sure—I'm no healer—but I think there's a remedy. There had to be, in case it didn't work—what if they…attached…to a dragon who decided to go _between_ anyway, or if the rider died?"

Lira nodded and watched T'naril, who was pressed against his bronze Zakanth. The dirt on his face and hands stood out starkly in the light of day, emphasizing his pale, drawn features. "For his sake," she said softly, "I hope you're right."

There was no hurry to get back to the weyr—the Fall was over, and T'ran had taken Arryn; so H'rath and Lira stood quietly, waiting until T'naril decided he was ready. Lira sat down cross-legged in the grass, and opened the wooden box that held the ampoules. One liquid was a milky, opaque, slightly bluish color; and the other was a dark, viscous substance that almost looked like blood. There were two ampoules of each substance, and two large vials, one of each liquid. Lira held up the vial with the dark substance, tilting it to the side slightly. She shuddered as the liquid oozed down the glass. Baerth made a low sound of disgust, his huge wedge-shaped head casting a shadow over her as he gazed at the vial with red-whirling eyes.

_Put it away,_ he told his rider, _or I will be angry._

_All right,_ Lira said, carefully placing the vial back in its padded compartment. She sat back on her hands, gazing up at the perfect blue sky. With the mountains stretching to either side of them, and the jewel-like lake under the azure sky, the location that Siena and Givral had chosen clashed fiercely with their dark intentions, its beauty at odds with the hatred that had choked the souls of its occupants. Lira shook her head and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. Baerth rumbled low in his throat and spread his wings slightly for balance as he made his way over to her. Plenneth added her gentle croon to her weyrmate's deep voice. The blue dragon lowered himself to the ground, curling his long sinuous neck around his rider. He knew better than anyone that his female rider appeared to be tough as nails—because she'd had to develop that exterior. She learned how to fight like the men, ride like the men, and, especially around her wing, act like the men: impassive and stoic. H'rath helped to balance out the two halves of her, but she was a different person around him. Not intentionally, simply because that was how she needed to be. She was a female blue-rider, almost unheard of except in a few scarce Harper's songs from long ago.

_I chose you for a reason_, Baerth said to her suddenly, putting an end to her thoughts. _I knew you were mine._

_Really? _Lira asked, the sun seeping into her skin. Baerth didn't talk about the unusual fact that he had chosen a female rider often. _You are a dragon, though, Baerth. _The blue snorted as she stated the obvious. _Nobody would question your choices…at least in front of you._

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself_, Baerth retorted. _You have not been ostracized. The other riders accept you. And you have a weyrmate, which is more than some can say._

_And I can still talk to you,_ she added grimly.

T'naril, still touching Zakanth with one hand, walked back toward them. He pressed his forehead against his bronze's great head, and then turned to Lira and H'rath. "I am ready to return to your weyr with you." He glanced at the blue dragon and green dragon.

"I apologize for the lack of introductions," H'rath said smoothly, with an easy smile. Lira looked gratefully at her weyrmate. H'rath was always so much better at the formal niceties. "I am H'rath, rider of green Plenneth."

"And I am Lira, rider of blue Baerth," Lira said, standing up and giving the half-bow appropriate when introducing herself to a bronze-rider. She didn't miss the look of shock that passed across T'naril's face, and she smiled a little, raising one eyebrow.

"Ah…sorry," T'naril said, blinking. "I just…didn't expect…"

"Plenneth is a beautiful green, and Lira is a beautiful woman," H'rath said, his eyes glimmering with suppressed mirth. Lira smacked him in the arm but Baerth rumbled—the draconic equivalent of a chuckle—and Plenneth preened herself.

Zakanth tilted his head, regarding the other two dragons with a slow sort of puzzlement, his mind still slowed from the effect of the heavy control, both mental and physical, that Givral had forced upon him. The mottled bronze dragon made a sound that was both questioning and disbelieving. Lira didn't need to hear the bronze's thoughts to know that he was not sure if he had heard the introductions correctly. "Zakanth seems to share your surprise," she told T'naril with a smile. Baerth lowered his head and she stroked his eye-ridge.

T'naril smiled—it would have been a grin, but he was beginning to look weary again. "Maybe Zakanth had…ideas…too."

"Well, your Zakanth could fly Plenneth if he really wanted to," Lira said with a wicked gleam in her eye and half a smile upon her lips. Baerth huffed in indignation. "But that could perhaps be a little awkward, if your affinities lean toward women rather than men." She slid a glance at H'rath. It was no secret that most green-riders bedded men at one point or another, and H'rath played along, pretending to be affronted but still letting that cat-like half-smile play along his mouth.

T'naril rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "I just got out and here I am, feeling like a clumsy weyrling again."

Lira shook her head. "We're just teasing. You should get used to it."

At the same time, H'rath said, "She's impossible. Just get used to it."

Lira rolled her eyes and then straightened, acquiring a business-like air. "All right then. H'rath, do you want to go ahead and let them know we're coming? And take the box with you."

"Yes, ma'am," H'rath replied with a half-mocking salute. He sobered as he picked up the wooden box, tightening the straps that held it closed at the front. Lira held it while he swung up onto Plenneth's neck, and she handed it carefully up to him. He looked down at her and shook his head. "Shards, it's been a long day."

She nodded grimly and stepped back. Plenneth gathered herself, half-spreading her wings for balance, and gracefully sprang into the air, emerald-hued wings sweeping downward as she carried her precious burden back toward Benden. Lira watched, shading her eyes against the blinding blue of the sky, until Plenneth and H'rath winked out high above them.

She turned to T'naril, and found the young bronze-rider staring over at the bodies of Siena and Givral. Something ugly surfaced in his face as he gazed on the corpses of his tormentors. "Who killed them?" he asked in a voice barely more than a strangled whisper.

Lira raised her chin. "I killed the man. Arryn, who was once our Weyrwoman, killed the woman."

"I wish I could have killed them both," T'naril said, an eager, morbid fascination filling his eyes.

"You say that, but you do not really wish it," Lira said. Her voice sounded tired to her own ears. "It is not a dragon-rider's duty to kill."

"They took Zakanth from me," the bronze-rider said with terrible anger and sorrow.

"But they are dead now, and not by your hand, so you must let go of your hatred," Lira said gently, taking a step toward the young man. He looked at her, then back at the still bodies, and then he turned away, leaning his forehead against his bronze dragon's neck.

After a long moment, T'naril turned back to Lira. "Take me to Benden, please. Take me away from this place."

She nodded. "Baerth will give the image to Zakanth." It went unspoken that he would ride with her on Baerth—he could barely walk on his own, much less stay on his dragon's neck in the mind-numbing cold of _between._ She made stirrups of her hands again, and after a moment of gritted teeth and heaved breath, T'naril managed to slide up onto Baerth's neck. Lira swung up behind him. She didn't have the extra riding straps for a second rider, or the safety-straps that messengers used when they brought Harpers or Holders from one place to another dragonback.

Another thought occurred to her as she settled herself on Baerth's neck behind him—he had on only a single thin shirt, ragged with wear. So she shrugged out of her wher-hide vest. "Here," she said, holding it out so he could slide his arms through it. He stiffened for a breath, and she was afraid he would refuse, but then he slipped it on and tightened the laces.

_Baerth, love, have you given Zakanth the image of Benden?_ she asked the blue.

_It took longer than usual, but yes, he has the image,_ Baerth replied, shifting beneath them. _He is not very heavy,_ the blue added.

_I know_, Lira said as she placed on arm around the too-thin rider in front of her. She wrapped the riding straps in a loop around her other hand for extra stability, and saw that T'naril had snugged the other strap around his own hand. _Ready when you are._

It took more effort for the larger blue dragon to lift off from flat ground than it had for Plenneth, and Lira winced at the jolt when Baerth jumped into the air. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Zakanth was using the hill by the lake, and the bronze dragon took off into the air with practiced ease. Baerth paused until the bronze dragon pulled abreast of them. Lira tightened her grip on T'naril and gave a mental nod. They slid into _between._

When they burst out of the air over the Benden Weyrbowl, Lira gasped in relief. _Remind me to thank whoever makes our wherhide vests_, she told Baerth, shivering, trying to forget the cold of _between _biting into her bones. And then she forgot her cold when she felt the dead weight of T'naril leaning against her arms. Her heart skipped a beat as she fumbled for the pulse at the young rider's neck. "Land, land right now, we need to get him to a healer," she said out loud, too shaken to keep her thoughts in her head. She heard Baerth bespeaking Finneseth in the back of her mind as the blue folded his wings and arrowed down to land. Plenneth and Zakanth had already landed, Zakanth refusing to fold his wings, and Plenneth keeping him on the ground by stretching her own neck across his, covering his huge bronze body with her emerald wings. She looked so small next to him.

Someone ran up to Baerth as she started unwrapping the tightness of the riding straps from her numb hand. "Tell someone to go get a healer!" she shouted, barely glancing up, barely registering that it was the youngest bronze-rider of Benden that stood by her dragon. She couldn't think of his name.

"A healer is already on the way," he said.

Lira tried to lean around T'naril. His hand was still cinched in the other riding strap. Her fingers were slow from the cold of _between_. She gritted her teeth. "Don't just stand there," she snapped at the young rider, "come and help!"

"Yes, ma'am," the bronze-rider said—to his credit, his voice was completely serious, his demeanor respectful, as if it wasn't a blue-rider that had just growled an order at him. He pulled himself halfway up Baerth's neck and deftly untangled T'naril's unmoving hand from the straps. Between the two of them, they slid the limp bronze-rider down from Baerth's neck.

Lira slipped from her dragon's neck and pulled T'naril's loose arm over her shoulder. "What's your name?" she asked the other Benden rider. "Sorry, I…"

"No need to apologize," he replied. "J'tor, rider of bronze Rieneth."

"Of Maventh's clutch," Lira said approvingly.

"And proud of it," golden-haired J'tor replied with half a smile.

"Is this the rider?" asked a breathless young man, skidding to a stop in front of them. "Paela sent me. She's still attending to the Weyrwoman—I mean, Arryn—I—" The young healer stopped and visibly composed himself, pulling the strap of his satchel over his head.

"Yes, this is T'naril, rider of bronze Zakanth," Lira told him. She half-turned as the healer began his examination as Baerth moved away.

_I must help Plenneth,_ the blue cursorily explained. Zakanth was becoming more and more anxious, his agitation growing as he watched the other riders supporting the limp form of T'naril.

The healer spread out a thin blanket over the warm ground of the Weyrbowl. "Lay him down here," he instructed. J'tor and Lira carefully lowered T'naril to the ground, and the healer wasted no time unlacing Lira's wherhide vest and cutting away the filthy shirt beneath. Lira had to look away when she glimpsed the fading green and vivid blue bruises mottling the rider's ribs. She swallowed back the acrid taste of bile.

Zakanth bellowed, and Lira winced as the bronze buffeted Baerth with one powerful wing. "Shards, I wish Arryn were here to talk to him," Lira said, mostly to herself.

But J'tor looked at her and said, "Maybe we can get the next best thing." His eyes went unfocused as he talked to his Rieneth, and after a moment a huge form eclipsed the sun. Finneseth alighted gracefully despite her size, landing at the far edge of the Weyrbowl.

Zakanth paused in his thrashing, considering the white-gold queen. Finneseth raised her head commandingly, and Lira was sure that she was addressing the bronze.

"He's fading fast," said the healer grimly, on his knees beside T'naril.

"No—he's a fighter, he can't…he won't…" Lira said desperately.

The healer took out a vial from his satchel and tipped a few drops of a clear liquid into T'naril's mouth. "No matter how much of a fighter someone may be, there is only so much a body can take."

Lira fought the urge to scream in frustration. Baerth let out a bellow for her. And then many things happened at once.

A dark-haired figure came flying across the Weyrbowl toward them: Vell, stumbling to a halt beside T'naril. "Where is it?" she panted. "Where is…the vial, the cure, where is it?"

As Vell reached T'naril's prone form, Lira spied H'rath striding purposefully toward them, holding the wooden box, with one of Benden's wizened scholars in tow.

"In the box, the box H'rath is carrying," Lira told Vell, all anger toward the young Weyrwoman forgotten as she watched the struggle to save T'naril and Zakanth unfold.

"Do it now, do it now," Vell cried out, her pretty face twisted in anguish.

"We don't know how it works," Lira protested.

Down on the ground, T'naril jerked and shuddered, blue tinging his lips. The healer cursed under his breath, his steady hands moving over the rider's body rapidly.

Vell closed her eyes as Finneseth roared at Zakanth. "He's not going to stay. His rider is dying and he knows it." She opened her eyes. "If it's successful, maybe that can save him. Maybe Zakanth can save him."

H'rath set the wooden case down carefully, the scholar beside him holding the folded parchment.

"Which one is the reversing serum?" Vell asked the scholar, unbuckling the straps on the front of the case.

A trickle of blood flashed bright red at the corner of T'naril's mouth.

_Hurry_, Baerth said.

"The dark liquid," said the scholar, his voice eerily calm amid the chaos as he blinked owlishly at the parchment. "Dose the dragon first, then the rider."

Vell grabbed one of the ampoules of the scarlet liquid and started toward the frantic bronze. Lira shook herself, blinked as if coming out of a daydream, and ran after the Weyrwoman.

"Don't be stupid," she said, overtaking Vell and clamping a vise-like grip on the younger woman's arm. "What if he kills you, where are we then?"

"He wouldn't," said Vell vehemently, but she let Lira take the ampoule from her.

"Have Finneseth keep talking to him," the blue-rider said. _Coming_, she said to Baerth, and she sprinted toward the chaos of the Benden dragons surrounding Zakanth. She felt the eyes of Vell and the healer and J'tor and H'rath watching her as she dodged Plenneth's wing, sliding to her knees and feeling the wind of movement just over her head.

_Plenneth apologizes_, Baerth said tersely, pinning down one of Zakanth's wings as the bronze tried to rear up, mad with worry for his rider and not able to touch the mind he loved most.

"Finneseth!" shouted Lira, rolling to avoid being trampled by the bronze, cupping the ampoule protectively to her chest. She heard Benden's queen give an imperative bellow, and for an instant Zakanth froze. It was enough. Lira sprang up and plunged the sharp tip of the ampoule into Zakanth's foreleg, compressing it with the heel of her other palm. "Done!" she yelled, and then Zakanth jerked as if in pain. The Benden dragons had paused at their queen's command, and so Zakanth's wings were unimpeded. He swept his wings forward, and Lira, standing triumphantly as she pulled out the empty ampoule, suddenly found herself airborne, hit by edge of Zakanth's wing.

Baerth roared when she hit the ground on her side. Her arm exploded in a starburst of agony, and then went numb. The sunlight turned into shadow tinged with blue as Baerth stood over her, still bellowing, shielding her with one wing and placing himself between his rider and the dragon who had injured her. She sat up, blinked dizzily, hugged her arm tight to her body—it was broken, she knew with grim certainty. _I'm…mostly all right, Baerth,_ she reassured her dragon. _You can stop yelling at Zakanth now._

_He hurt you,_ Baerth said angrily. _When you were trying to give him his rider back._

_He didn't know what he was doing,_ Lira replied tiredly. _Move your wing so I can stand._

After a slight hesitation, Baerth swept back his wing, but moved closer to her, so she could lean on him for support. She stood shakily, waited until the ground stopped shifting under her feet, and peered back in the direction of H'rath and the others. It seemed like an insurmountably long distance.

_One step at a time_, counseled Baerth. _Or there is no shame in sitting down again._

_Just…stay beside me. Please_. She found it wasn't so bad if she looped her good arm under part of the riding straps, snugging it up to her elbow; then she could still hold her broken arm against herself.

Of course H'rath ran to her, but she shook her head when he tried to help. The thought of someone else touching her arm—touching her at all, which would jostle her arm—made her sick. "Did it work?" she croaked, Baerth lumbering along awkwardly, dutifully alongside her.

"Nothing is sure yet," H'rath answered. "He's still alive."

"Good," she said, pausing to catch her breath, "because I'm going to punch him after he wakes up."

H'rath shook his head and chuckled a bit.

Silence filled the Weyrbowl as Lira made her painful way back to T'naril and J'tor. The healer sat like a statue by T'naril's side, fingers pressed below the unconscious rider's jaw.

"How is he?" Lira panted. Baerth cast a shadow over them all, and only then did the healer glance up.

"Forgive me," he said quickly when he saw Lira clutching her arm, "I didn't know you were hurt."

She shook her head. "I'm fine for now."

The healer looked down at T'naril. "His heart is beating more strongly now. He was right on the edge when we gave him the serum. I think…" He paused, clearly not wanting to give the riders false hope. "I think it may have worked. Otherwise, I don't know, it's an unbelievable coincidence that he is doing so much better."

A bit of color had returned to T'naril's face, and he was breathing easier. Vell watched Lira with concern: the blue-rider had a smudge of dirt on her face, highlighting her pallor, and the shoulder of her shirt was ripped where Zakanth's wing had caught her.

_Finneseth, love_, Vell said, reaching out to her beautiful queen, _please…could you see how Zakanth is doing_?

_He hurt a Benden rider_, Finneseth said darkly. _But he has been through much._

Vell heard her own heartbeat in her throat during her dragon's silence. Maybe, just maybe, there would be a silver lining to this whole mess.

_Zakanth says that he can feel T'naril. He will not be sure until T'naril wakes up,_ Finneseth said.

_Ask him to wake him up,_ Vell said.

_He will try_, the white-gold queen relayed.

And sure enough, T'naril made a small sound, not exactly a groan but more a sound of surprise. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the light. "Zakanth?" he whispered, a frown creasing his brow. His wandering eyes found Lira, and he said weakly, "I dreamed…I could hear Zakanth calling me…"

Lira managed half a smile. "Listen again."

T'naril's eyes went unfocused, and then a joyful smile spread across his face. It was the smile of a newly Impressed weyrling, but more—he had known that joy, and been torn from it, and by a miracle he had been given it back. "Thank you," he said, voice cracking.

"Thank us later, when you're well," H'rath said.

T'naril merely smiled again, and closed his eyes. They all knew, though, that he wasn't sleeping; he was speaking to his beloved Zakanth.

"Now let the healer look at you," H'rath said. "Shards, woman, why did I pick such a stubborn weyrmate?"

Lira felt her grin slipping sideways. Her vision blurred. "You couldn't resist my charms," she said breathily, feeling the pressure on her good arm increase as she put more and more weight on the riding strap.

"Come on, then," H'rath said. "Untangle yourself."

"I'll fall."

"I'll catch you."

He was so reasonable. She slid her arm out from beneath the riding strap and he slipped around to her good side, picking her up carefully. She heard a whimper, and realized that she had produced it.

"Ugh. Knock me out…before I whine more…" she said.

"All in good time," H'rath said, carrying her with long smooth strides.

They made it to the healer's room before T'naril. H'rath shouldered open the door, and Paela looked up in alarm.

"Can you _all_ please stop getting injured?" she demanded.

Lira glimpsed Arryn's pale face, framed by her red-gold hair. She made a questioning, panicked sound.

"Arryn is resting," Paela said reassuringly as H'rath settled Lira down onto the bed next to the green-rider. Lira looked up at her weyrmate gratefully.

"She'll be all right?" she said hoarsely.

"It was a near thing, and she'll have some interesting scars, but yes, our fearless Weyrwoman will fly Thread another day," Paela said. She didn't bother correcting herself, calling Arryn Weyrwoman. They all did it from time to time, out of habit. "Now let me see...well, it's definitely broken."

"I knew that," gritted out Lira.

Paela shook her head. "I don't know what I'm going to do with the lot of you."

"We keep you on your toes."

"Drink this," the healer said, rolling her eyes and handing a cup to the blue-rider with a smile.

"What is it?" Lira asked, sniffing it suspiciously and wrinkling her nose.

"It will put you into a deep sleep…unless you'd prefer me to set that arm with you awake."

Lira swallowed the bitter contents of the cup and laid back, feeling the throb of her arm lull into something farther away. "Make sure Baerth doesn't worry," she said to H'rath, her lips numb, and then she closed her eyes with a sigh. "It's been a hell of a day," she murmured to no-one in particular as she drifted off to sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

**So we are coming to the end of this tale...and I hope you have enjoyed it. BUT I also have a sort of announcement that will maybe make up for the horrendous amount of time that's passed since I started this story. I have an original novel hitting the press this spring, so if you enjoy my writing, please feel free to "Like" my Author page on Facebook (search for Jocelyn A. Fox) or follow me on Twitter (jafox2010). The novel, tentatively titled _The Iron Sword_, is a modern fantasy influenced heavily by Celtic myth, with a kick-ass female main character who would be great friends with Arryn, in fact. **

**As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and thanks so much for sticking with me! I'll also consider suggestions for an epilogue if you guys feel like there are any loose ends. Enjoy!**

Pain. And an insistent voice, riding the throbbing waves rippling throughout her body. A familiar voice, a beloved voice, a voice that spoke to her stubborn soul.

_You should wake up now_, the voice said firmly.

She kept her eyes closed, awareness of her body slowly filtering back in small snatches. She felt her arms, laid neatly by her sides, her legs stretched out, covered beneath a cool sheet. Her throat was incredibly dry, and she knew without touching it that her hair looked terribly in need of a washing. Her eyelids were heavy. So heavy. Even half-conscious it was a struggle against the pain, which she realized radiated from her shoulder and back.

When she remembered the wound, the hot tracery of a blade through her skin, all the memories rushed back. Vell and Finneseth, Maventh slamming into the rogue bronze, the hatred in Sienna's eyes that had hit her like a blow, the tear in her beloved dragon's wing. The grim determined purpose in both their minds as they realized they might give their lives in defense of Benden's future, and they were prepared to do it.

_Except you are not dead,_ the voice in her head said firmly, cutting through the layers of pain and confusion.

_ Maventh?_ Arryn managed. Even her mental voice was weak. She wanted to grimace.

_Of course. I would not let any of the others wake you up,_ Maventh replied in a slightly reproving tone.

_How long have I been…asleep?_

_ Well, you have not been asleep. You were unconscious for two days. The healer woman kept giving you something that pushed you so far away from me that I could barely feel you,_ Maventh replied. An echo of the distress the green dragon had felt during those days reverberated through Arryn's mind. She winced. _It is the evening of the third day. Baerth's rider has told me that the healer woman thinks it is safe for you to wake up now._

_ I'm so sorry, Mav. I can't imagine what it was like for you, _Arryn said, eyes still closed.

_There is nothing for which you must apologize_, the green dragon told her firmly. _Ereth has been hunting for me, and Baerth and Plenneth have been keeping me company. _Maventh paused. _And they found Zakanth's rider, in the hill-caves. _

_ And…?_ Arryn frowned slightly, feeling the skin of her brow wrinkle.

_And they were able to give them back to each other,_ Maventh said, a flush of pride coloring her voice. _Finneseth's rider and Baerth's rider and Plenneth's rider all helped._

_ And…Sh'let and Parnileth?_

_They both insisted that we wait until you woke up_. A hint of smugness and possessiveness threaded through the wave of affection that rolled over Arryn. She smiled faintly. And then she realized that there were people sitting by her bed, and they were talking about her.

"Look," the first voice said in a whisper, "she's smiling."

"Maybe she's just dreaming," another whispered voice—male—mused.

"Let me check with Baerth," the first voice whispered. "Paela told me that she might wake up today, and I told Baerth, and I think Baerth told Maventh."

"Or you could just ask me whether I'm awake," Arryn said, still smiling. Her voice came out as a terrible croak, and she rasped through the last few words, but still. It definitely got their attention.

"You're awake!" Lira exclaimed joyfully.

"A little…less volume, please," Arryn said, opening her eyes just a crack and wincing at the brightness of the light. "And maybe some water?"

Her vision resolved slowly from bright blurs to Lira, sitting by her bedside, one arm in a sling. H'rath returned a moment later, holding a cup of water to her lips. She drank gratefully, without even trying to protest that she could hold the cup herself. But she didn't miss the glance that H'rath and Lira exchanged.

She finished the water and blinked a few times, licking her lips. "How bad?"

"Paela said that it will probably be a while until you have full use of the arm back," H'rath said carefully.

A shudder of nameless fear shot through her body. "But I _will_ have…I will be able to use it again?" H'rath looked at her silently. "Lira," Arryn said as sharply as she could, hating the edge of desperation in her voice. "Please."

"You're young and strong. You'll use it again," Lira said firmly. She grinned a little, motioning to her own sling. "Between us, we have two useful arms. I'm going to have a lot of work to do, too."

Arryn didn't miss the protective way H'rath put his arm around the blue-rider. "How did it happen?"

"When we brought T'naril—that's Zakanth's rider—he was…dying," Lira finished, voice wavering only slightly. "And we thought we were going to lose him, and Zakanth too."

"Vell helped us save them," H'rath added.

"It was really quite dramatic," Lira said, nodding. "She came tearing across the Weyrbowl right after we landed, and H'rath had the ampoules, and then Vell got it into her silly head that she was going to be the one to inject Zakanth."

"Who was going mad because T'naril was dying," H'rath explained.

"And so I took the vial from her—because really, one less blue rider wouldn't make an incredible impact on Benden. But if we lost Vell…" Lira shook her head. Her face hardened for an instant. "Everything you did would have been for nothing."

Arryn smiled wryly. "Glad it wasn't."

"Right after I got Zakanth with the ampoule, he hit me with his wing. It was quite a spectacular flight. Except I have to work on my landing a little more," Lira said with a wicked smile. She tilted her head. "Baerth says I wouldn't make a good dragon. He also wants to ask if the others can talk to you. They want to, but Maventh is being…" She compressed a smile. "Maventh is being difficult."

"I guess she might have a right to be a little overprotective," Arryn said, taking a break in the middle of the sentence. Bu she smiled and let her eyes drift shut. _Maventh dear, the others want to talk to me. _

_ They have wanted to talk to you for days, but you were not awake,_ Maventh said.

_Would you mind if they talked to me now?_

_Do you feel well enough to talk to them now? _Maventh asked anxiously.

_I wouldn't be asking if I didn't feel up to it, silly. _Arryn smiled in spite of herself. It felt good to lie back, and talk to Maventh, and know that everything was going to be all right.

_Only for a few minutes_, the green dragon said finally.

_Mother wherry_, Arryn muttered at her affectionately. And then she opened the part of her mind that she kept carefully separated from the rest, the part of her that sensed every dragon like a bright light in the sky, a feeling more than anything. She immediately felt Baerth and Plenneth. They bugled a greeting out loud, making Maventh grumble.

_You are awake,_ Baerth said in an unintentional imitation of his rider.

_We were worried about you_, Plenneth told her.

_I am glad you are all right_, Finneseth said in her golden glowing voice.

_Thank you all_, Arryn replied gratefully. There were more of Benden's dragons, hovering near the edges of her mind, hesitant to talk to her directly so soon after her awakening, but they all sent her waves of love and affection, each slightly different. Beneath the layers of love her pain faded away. _How are you, Finneseth?_ she asked the white-gold queen with the concern of a mother.

_A few days yet from the Hatching Grounds, rider of my mother_, Finneseth replied with strange formality.

_Why the serious tone, Finneseth?_

There was an uneasy pause.

_You and Maventh were willing to sacrifice your lives for Vell and I, _Finneseth said. _That is a debt we can never repay._

_ Repay it by having many hatchlings for Benden,_ Arryn replied immediately and firmly.

_I will do the best I can, _Finneseth replied, sounding much younger all of a sudden than the queen of all Benden Weyr.

_Also…tell Vell that I am not angry_, the green-rider said. _Maventh and I…we did it out of love. It was very stupid of you both to put yourselves in danger, but I understand why you did it._

_ I will tell her,_ Finneseth said, and then she tactfully faded away from Arryn's dragon-sense, ending the conversation.

And then Ereth was there in her mind, enveloping her with love that was tinged with T'ran's memories of her. _I will tell him that you are awake,_ he said, sensing her need for her weyrmate before she even put words to the thought.

_Thanks, Ereth,_ she said. _He isn't…he wasn't too angry, was he?_

_ We were not angry until we were sure you would live_, Ereth replied, his voice somber. _Before he was angry, he would not eat, and he would not sleep._

Arryn sighed, her eyes still closed, feeling the tightness build in her throat. She clenched her jaw, pushing the tears away. Not now, not so soon after she woke. But one slipped unbidden from beneath her closed lids, tracing a hot track down her cheek. Lira pressed her good hand into Arryn's good hand.

"Arryn," the blue-rider said softly and carefully, "what's wrong?"

Arryn opened her eyes, blinking fiercely, and cleared her throat. "I just…I just don' t like it when…people…are worried about me."

"Of course we were worried about you, wherry-head!" Lira exclaimed.

Arryn raised her eyebrows. "Wherry-head?" she repeated. "Are we still weyrlings, Lira?"

Lira grumbled good-naturedly at her, and then there were fast hard footsteps in the hallway. A weathered brown hand shoved aside the curtain around Arryn's bed, and Arryn found herself gazing up at T'ran, who paused breathlessly. She smiled. Lira and H'rath tactfully excused themselves…or not so tactfully in Lira's case, who exited with a huge wink at Arryn.

T'ran covered the distance to Arryn's bed in two huge strides. He made as though to embrace her, and then he paused, checked himself, reaching out one hand tentatively to brush away a tendril of hair from her cheek. "You're awake," he said quietly.

Arryn gazed up at him and noted the signs of sleeplessness and worry on his handsome face, the dark bruise-like circles beneath his eyes and the paleness of his skin. "And you've been awake all this time," she said softly.

"I couldn't…I wanted to stay here, but…I had to go and give instructions to my Wingsecond…" he faltered.

She reached up with her good hand, pausing at the ripple of pain that even that small motion caused. But she clenched her teeth and laid her palm on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, an expression akin to pain on his face. To her surprise, she glimpsed tears wetting his long eyelashes.

"T'ran," she murmured. He looked at her, almost unwillingly. "What is it?"

He shook his head and one of his hands flew up to press her palm harder against his face. "Out of all the insane things you've done…all the stunts you've pulled…"He raised agonized eyes to her gaze. "I thought I'd really lost you this time. You almost died in my arms, Arryn."

She remembered watching, terrified, as a man had pulled T'ran, pale and lifeless, from a lake in Ruatha. "I know," she whispered. "But you didn't lose me. I didn't die."

He took a sudden hitching breath and looked away again. "It was a near thing, Arryn. Too near for my liking."

What could she say to that? So she gave him a lopsided grin and said, "Well, love, it was too close for my liking too."

T'ran looked down at her for a slow second, his face frozen in that agonized expression, and then he rolled his eyes and grinned. He leaned closer and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes at the feel of his lips on her skin. In the back of her mind, she felt Maventh curl against Ereth on their ledge, basking in the sun contentedly.

T'ran pressed his forehead against hers. She had an inkling of what he was about to say before he said it.

"Please don't ask me to promise that I'll never do anything like this again," Arryn said quietly. "I can't promise you that. I love Benden, and I'll do anything I can to make sure that the weyr survives." Her voice hardened fiercely through the last sentence.

T'ran smiled slightly. "I love Benden, too, but I love you more. And I guess I'll just have to keep an eye on you, then." His smile grew wider. "Me and every other dragon Ereth can enlist."

Arryn narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I will. I am." He grinned at her. She loosened her grip on her dragon-sense, and felt the presence of six or seven dragons, all familiar, all Benden dragons, a part of their consciousness focused watchfully on her.

She scowled at T'ran. "Bully."

"They're more than willing. They would've been watching anyway." T'ran smiled at her fondly. "They understand what you did for the weyr."

Arryn wanted to shrug but reconsidered. Tendrils of pain began weaving their way out from her shoulder, wrapping around her ribs and down her spine. "Is Paela around?"

"I'll go get her," T'ran said. He kissed her forehead again. When he returned, Paela was at his side.

"You'll be wanting something for the pain," Paela said, struggling to keep her voice business-like. She put her satchel on the bedside stand and rifled through it.

"Yes, but it has to be something that won't put me to sleep," Arryn replied.

"You need to rest. I had to keep you under for over two days so your body could heal."

"Sh'let and Parnileth need to be—put back together—and they won't do it without me. So I need to be awake." Arryn gave a tight, determined smile. "And I have to go to them."

"Arryn," T'ran said, his voice somewhere between exasperation and love.

"Lira said they won't do it without me. So I want to go to them right now. Give me something for the pain that won't put me to sleep, or I'll just go without it." The green-rider raised her chin challengingly, gritting her teeth at the wave of pain crashing over her body.

Paela looked at T'ran, then at Arryn, then back at T'ran. After a long moment, T'ran nodded. Paela mixed a noxious brew and handed it to the wounded rider. When Arryn wrinkled her nose at the smell, the small healer said, "The herb I was going to put into it to make you sleep would've made it better."

"Noted," Arryn said drily. T'ran helped her hold the cup, and she gulped it as fast as she could. "Ugh…that tastes like…dirt and grass," she grimaced after the last swallow. Then she sighed as the pressure in her shoulder lessened.

"But it works," said Paela with a smile. Then the healer sobered. "You're truly serious about doing this?"

"Seriously serious," Arryn replied.

"Then at least let me make you some broth. It will be quick," Paela promised. "You haven't had anything for two days…and it's not like you have much fat on your body to lose."

"Lira's been influencing you," Arryn said suspiciously as Paela left to go get her soup. "I do too have some…fat…to lose…" She trailed off.

While they were waiting, T'ran seemed content to keep brushing back the same stubborn tendril of hair from Arryn's cheek. She felt annoyance bring color to her cheeks, but she forced herself not to swat him away…she could deal with a bit of fussing after what she'd put him through. So she reached out to Maventh. _Love, tell Parnileth and Sh'let to find a ledge as close to the healing hall as possible._

_You are going to overstrain yourself_, Maventh warned, but she told the young blue anyway.

"Paela has the ampoules," T'ran said.

As if on cue, the healer swept back the curtain. "Here. Drink this."

Unlike the concoction from a few minutes earlier, this bowl was filled to the brim with a thick broth that smelled absolutely delicious. Arryn scowled at the spoon and ended up sipping the broth slowly straight from the bowl, T'ran watching and occasionally lending his steadying hand.

She sighed in satisfaction after swallowing the last bit of broth."I feel much better. Really!" she protested when T'ran gave her a slightly skeptical look. "Help me up."

She discovered in mortification when she pushed back the blankets that she was, in fact, not wearing any pants. T'ran tried to hide his smile but failed as he helped her slide into a fresh pair of loose trousers. Even with the medicine Paela had just given her, her should flared with pain as she sat up and took stock of the rest of her clothes. Someone had dressed her in a sleeveless white undershirt at some point, and the thick padded dressing and sling covered most of her torso anyway. Paela checked over the bandages and then said, "I'll get the ampoules."

With her good arm around T'ran's broad shoulder, Arryn took a tentative step forward and cursed as her legs shook. The bronze-rider bent and easily swept her up into his arms, careful not to jar her wound. "I'll carry you there," he murmured into her ear, "and you can walk out onto the ledge, if you want, but you're not walking all the way there after you just woke up."

"Fine," Arryn grumbled.

_Admit it,_ Maventh told her, _you like it when T'ran carries you around._

_ Well,_ Arryn replied with a small smile, _he _is_ a big, strong bronze-rider…_

Maventh flicked her tail and snorted as Arryn nestled closer to T'ran's broad chest. He glanced down at her, a grin glimmering on his face.

"All right," he finally said, "here we are." He gently set her on her feet. She gripped his arm tightly with her good hand, feeling impossibly clumsy and weak as she tried to put one foot in front of the other. But she stepped out onto the ledge, and found blue Parnileth and pale Sh'let waiting, surrounded by as many dragons as would fit onto the ledge. She craned her neck. All the close ledges were overflowing with Benden dragons, bronze and brown and green and blue, and Finneseth's clear golden bugle cut through all the clamor. Arryn couldn't help but grin.

Sh'let stepped forward, his haggard young face lit with hope. Paela stepped forward with the wooden box, and took out two ampoules, the glass glimmering in the morning light. A younger healer stepped forward and took one of the ampoules. It was clear it had been rehearsed.

"Sh'let," Paela said, "you understand that this is dangerous."

"Yes," the young rider said, visibly trembling.

"You understand that we don't completely know how it works," the healer continued, her voice gentle but determined.

"I understand that I have a chance to have Parnileth back," the blue-rider said softly, "and I'm willing to take the risk." He hesitated. "If…if it's not too much to ask…" He looked at Arryn, his eyes wide and frightened. Arryn looked at T'ran and nodded, taking a deep breath and slowly stepping forward until she stood next to Sh'let. The young rider reached out for her good arm. "Thank you for fighting for me," he whispered. "I would've given up, but all I could think was…what would Weyrwoman Arryn do?" He gave her a lopsided smile, and she smiled back, fighting past the lump in her throat.

"You should thank Lira and H'rath…and Vell too," she told him. "Now, let's do this before I fall over." T'ran took a step closer, and she didn't wave him away.

The younger healer stepped forward and found the vein in Parnileth's foreleg. The blue stayed still as a statue as the healer slowly pushed the liquid into his vein. Then, slowly, his head lowered, drifting down until he was level with Sh'let's shoulder. The rider took a deep breath and bared his arm. Paela tapped his elbow and slid the ampoule's hollow needle into the vein. Sh'let shuddered, his eyes rolling back in his head, and T'ran quickly moved forward, lowering the blue-rider to the ledge and making sure that Arryn kept her balance at the same time.

Painfully, Arryn knelt. "How long does it take?"

"With T'naril—Zakanth's rider—it was almost instant," murmured Paela, pressing two fingers to the soft spot beneath Sh'let's jaw. "From what the scholars told me, it's different with every pair."

Lira appeared on the ledge and pushed through the loose knot of riders, towing a stranger that Arryn had never seen behind her. He was tall, with broad shoulders—almost as tall as T'ran—but he had the thin look of someone just recovering from near-starvation. He looked at Arryn with vivid hazel eyes, but only spared her a quick glance before kneeling down on the other side of Sh'let, murmuring into the younger rider's ear.

"Who is that?" Arryn asked Lira in curiosity.

"T'naril, rider of bronze Zakanth. He was High Reaches, but I think he's going to stay at Benden," Lira replied smugly.

"I'm so glad you found him," Arryn told her friend fervently. "It was terrible, talking to Zakanth…" She broke off as Sh'let gave a great shudder, his body arching off the ledge. T'naril cushioned the younger man's head, still talking in a low voice. Arryn clutched at T'ran's supporting arm, her heart in her throat.

And then Parnileth opened his brightly whirling eyes as Sh'let jerked again with a small, strangled cry. T'naril sat back and looked up at Arryn, T'ran and Lira. "It…hurts," he explained. "I was almost dead, and I still felt it. But it's a familiar pain, it feels like when it…when it first happened. But I think it's over."

Paela sat back on her heels. Sh'let blinked owlishly up at them, and then a huge grin split his young face as Parnileth rumbled, pushing his great triangular head onto Sh'let's chest.

"I'd say it worked," Lira said, her voice oddly gentle as she watched the reunited pair.

"By the First Egg," Arryn murmured, suddenly realizing her weariness, "I am glad this whole mess is over."

"Not…completely." T'naril cleared his throat. "If I may, Weyrwoman—"

"I'm not Weyrwoman anymore," Arryn interrupted.

"Once a Weyrwoman, always a Weyrwoman," said a new voice from behind them all. Vell slipped gracefully to Lira's side, and Arryn raised her eyebrows in surprise as the blue-rider gave a small nod and smile to the queen-rider.

"Now you're just making things up," Arryn muttered, feeling a hot blush spread across her cheeks.

"With your permission, Weyrwoman Arryn, Zakanth and I would like to stay at Benden," T'naril said. He smiled at Lira. "Lira told me that Benden would return my Zakanth to me, and the least I can do is fly Thread with Benden's dragons as repayment."

Arryn nodded. "As long as your old Weyrleader knows you are safe, and reunited with Zakanth."

"I've already made a visit," the bronze-rider replied.

"Well, then," Arryn said, looking at Vell. Vell nodded. "Welcome to Benden."

"Music to my ears," sighed Lira. She grinned mischievously. "It's not often we get to steal riders from other Weyrs."

"You stole a good one," murmured Paela with a wicked glint in her eye as she surveyed T'naril. "I think," the petite healer said, "you should come with me, so that I can see how your ribs are healing up."

As Paela lead T'naril away, Arryn leaned into T'ran, watching Sh'let and Parnileth, who were still giddy with their reunion. "It was all worth it," she said softly.

Vell reached over and touched her good shoulder.

"If you say thank you, I'm just going to ignore you," Arryn told her. The dark-haired young woman grinned. Lira chuckled, and they stood together for a moment: bronze-rider, blue-rider, green-rider and gold-rider, watching the dragons of Benden fly through the vivid blue sky.


End file.
